I'm usually vehemently opposed to talking about the weather. It's one of the more repetitive talking points out there--didn't we talk about the same thing the last time it was 60 degrees and raining? I get a bout of conversation anxiety ("How long are we going to be stuck on the weather? How will we transition into new territory? It takes two to tango, but it seems like X is really committed to talking about rain.") when I find myself in a weather-related conversation. You can imagine how frustrated I am with myself now that I'm about to write upwards of 200 words on the weather, but, like, eff this weather.
It's winter. I'm supposed to be wearing my wool blend duffle coat, not my spracket (spring jacket that doubles as a rain coat, duh). I'm currently wearing a cotton sweater, which should be at least 40% wool given the month and my geographical position on the Eastern seaboard. Even the cotton is too heavy though, so I've stripped down to one of those tshirts that you put on in the morning with no intention of taking the layer over it off because it's nubby, see-through and has pit stains.
This weather has me all out of sorts, and I just decided about a second ago that I'm going to take up global warming as a cause. Save the glaciers, save the polar bears, save my sweaters. (JK, I've always been concerned about global warming, don't ya worry.)
Too right.
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