It's winter.

Dear Mother Nature,

Look, on an intellectual level, I recognize that yes, it is winter. That means that things such as snow and sniffles and random ice patches just happen. I know this. I do.

Proof that I know winter when I see it.

But, just I can't seem to help the cycle of 'what the hell' that I go through every week. It goes like this:

Sunday: Sleep in. Do not leave house. Spend time doing silly things like reading fanfiction and taking twelve different naps. Generally a day of contentment. Completely ignore ridiculous phenomena such as "weather."

Monday: Wake up, unhappy because I'm awake before the sun. Take one step outside. Realize it's fucking freezing. Wonder, "WHY?" Realize: It's February. Damn.

Tuesday: Snow has had time to melt. I'm happier, because that means I can wear my comfiest shoes. Only, it starts snowing halfway through the day, and by the time I'm leaving school, my footwear and outfit are no longer okay, and in fact anything short of some sort of fur-lined parka monstrosity will leave me cold. Double damn.

Wednesday: Take one step out door. Fall on ass. Curse creatively.

Thursday: Fuck, I hate winter.

Friday: Oh thank god it's Friday. ... maybe winter isn't so bad? ... Nah.

Saturday: Burrow into blankets and conveniently located warm bodies. Forget about this whole goddamn season. Winter? What winter?

This cycle has been repeating itself since about January. By March I will be some sort of rabid beast that roams the land in search of sunlight and dry ground.

So consider this my formally lodged complaint. I object to the existence of winter past the month of December. I object to the freezing cold, the biting wind, the slippery ice, the sniffles, the nosebleeds, and the cabin fever. I'm done.

Best Regards,

Kira

P.S. - I have strep right now, which I totally blame on winter. If I sound cranky, or spiteful, or incoherent, blame it on the fact that I can't swallow a single fucking thing without feeling like I'm shoving a hedgehog down my throat. Ta.