The sky was white today and unlike the hottest part of a flame, there was a chill that reached out and poked you every now and again as if it were trying to stir up some trouble. Vitamin D was had been so hard to come by this winter, and now the sky was one giant teasing glass of milk that was ice cold, right to the bone.
It’s just not what I was expecting when I stepped foot into the wild and onto the brick patio, only to retreat back into the shelter of my green fuzzy blanket. I wear it like bear’s fur over my sheep skin. I guess it could be worse. I guess the sky could be blazing blue on a 90 degree summer afternoon, and when my parched lips long for a ice cold glass of milk, instead revolt at the obscenity of everything sour.
So you’re right. It could be worse. I guess I’m just spoiled, and a sucker for convenience.