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. Continue reading “Don’t tell me how to feel about the weather”