Tuesday, March 11
In another life, I'd wake up on Tuesday March 11th with sunlight slanting lazily through the slits of my window blinds. I'd stretch my arms and look out to see the world bathed in that soft spring morning glow. Throw on a skirt and sandals and enjoy a leisurely stroll to my bus stop, chirping birds attending my every step.
But not in this goddamn town.
Awoken by arctic blast slicing through window. Grumble into thick tights, wool socks, wool pants, undershirt, heavy sweater, full-length wool coat, scarf, mittens, hat. Step outside into the MOTHERFUCKING SNOW. SNOW! On March 11!! I plod to my bus stop, curse words attending my every step.
I don't understand this boycott against France. France has not done shit to me. I am boycotting nature until spring comes.