HE BOUGHT YOU FLOWERS, I BOUGHT YOU DRINK. YOU CAN’T DRINK FLOWERS, BUT FLOWERS CAN DRINK.

It doesn’t really look like it’s snowed outside. It looks more like someone dumped a few thousand tons of rock salt all over the block. I just went outside a little bit ago to put the trash out and it didn’t even feel like snow. It felt like I was getting pelted in spit balls. Cold spit balls. Like Junior High.

So I’m inside drinking a warm cup of Chai, wearing sweat pants, and listening to Fugazi, all the while pissed off that I didn’t get to jog today.

I’m sick of this winter shit. I want Spring. I want some nice weather to come for a few days before we hit July and the sweltering, scrotum-soaking, sweat that comes with that month is upon us.

I also hate Daylight time. I’ve been tired all day long at work. Then I came home excited that I could finally get a nap. Guess who can’t sleep now?

Goddamn everything.

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