Let me tell you something right now. I’ve had about all of Spring I can stomach! I swear, if one more person skips up to me quoting sonnets about the gorgeous weather and sunshine, I’m gonna knock them flatter than water on a plate! This is my least favorite season. I’m feeling grumpy enough about having to endure it, without a bunch of superficial do-gooders trying to cheer me out of my dark blue funk!
When I patiently scream at them that Spring is a giant zit on the face of the year, they look at me as if I were a Matanuska Valley zucchini and they were allergic to squash. I wind up having to engage them in a fruitless and exhausting debate in defense of my perfectly legitimate opinion. Therefore, in hopes of curtailing any more perky greetings from you romantic idealists out there, let me mention just a couple of the woes and trials that have plagued me this year, since the mercury in my stupid thermometer forgot how to stay down below zero where it belongs.
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