I deeply resent being told how to feel about the weather. The weather man tries to tell me how lovely it will be with the sun shining all day, but all I want is fog and rain. The earth is so dry, and so are my patio planters.
Ninety+ degrees. I’ll complain about the heat if I like. Don’t tell me I can’t just because it will be cold soon. I’ll take twenties over nineties any day. I’m chunky, okay? Hot weather isn’t fun when your body parts stick together, and you no longer wear shorts because you’re just not comfortable showing quite that much skin.
It doesn’t matter to me that there’s only so much warm weather left until winter. That doesn’t stop me from being miserable in the sticky heat today, now does it?
So please, stop telling me how to feel about the weather. Don’t tell me to be thankful for the heat that is literally making me ill. You don’t have to live in my body, do you? You go enjoy this weather, if that’s what you like. In a few weeks, you can curl up in a blanket indoors and watch me ride my bike in the rain like a crazy person (says you.)