Last weekend saw the start of the craptacular season I call "Grey." Sure, Daylight Savings ends on the 30th, but when it rains for nearly a week, that's got to count for something.
It's time to bury the air conditioner, unearth the trench coat, plug in the electric blanket, get some hot, pure liquid chocolate from Starbucks - yes, I am the Chantico's bitch. I get a Really Big Cup of it with whipped cream and somehow NOT go into a diabetic coma (haven't had one since April) - and revel in the giant boxed set of Monty Python's Flying Circus DVDs. (Hmm, remind me to get a decent copy of John Phillip Sousa's "Liberty Bell." Not a bad tune to start off a British sketch show with.)
From now until May, we can expect about seven sunny days per month. Since I'm a terrible creature of the night and work second shift, I'll forget what the Sun is by December. By March, I'll take a page from Lewis Black and start cutting myself just to see some color. April will roll around and various passers-by will look on in amazement as to how pale I am, and will suggest that I'm a vampire. I will respond by actually biting them, just to fuck with their heads. May will slap me in the face with some much needed warmth, and everything will be back to normal.
By the way, could we get some fucking THUNDER and LIGHTNING with the melancholic rain? A little meteorological drama isn't too much to ask, is it? A bit of Neodämmerung, perhaps?
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