48 hours ago the world was perfect. Or so it seemed. The skies were cerulean and beaming, the temperatures soared above 80 degrees. It was bliss. Pure and simple bliss. Now, right before the beginning of my Easter break, I am looking out my window in disdain and contempt. A mad snow storm blows its brains out; I would estimate there's an inch or so out there already. The balmy 80 degree sultriness has been chased away by the last (I hope) sneak attack of Winter.
The bitch is back…
Back for a week, or so the weather people on the local Pittsburgh news say. This just reinforces my certainty that I will, one of these better days, live in a place where April is completely void of snow. I honestly think I have seasonal affective disorder. As Jimmy says, I got a Caribbean soul I can barely control… Indeed I do. Ah, well. I'll save Jimmy's pearls of wisdom for a more lucid hour; my mind and body are begging for sleep. I'll pray for Morpheus to grant me vivid dreams of temptations in the warm Gulf of Mexico, the exotic aftertaste of sangria, and the accent of some beautiful stranger.