Under Protest

I'm pretty logical most times. (Stop laughing) I mean, yes I kinda (read: absolutely) believe that when I knock on wood with all of my knuckles I'm maybe preventing something bad from happening. But that's not illogical, that's slight ocd. I mean I'm logical in that I turn my homework in on time so that I'll get a good grade, I go to the dentist twice a year, and I don't get in the middle of two people screaming at Tito's Tacos about how they're going to the car to get 'their backup'.

But . . . buuuuuuuuut, something about FIVE STRAIGHT MONTHS of snow and having to wear fifteen pieces of clothing at once has really started to fuck with me. Last week I decided that if I dressed for different weather, maybe different weather would appear. So I've stopped wearing boots and a coat as some sort of insane protest to Mr. Weather. So far it's not working, but I refuse to give in. It's mid-March for the love of God! I should be walking around in some dress that's way too short for me!

I told Bubby that if she brought me 80 degree weather when she comes out this weekend I would pay her a hundred bucks . . . and I mean it. And you know what's crazy? Part of me actually believes she can. Because she's just that awesome.