there's no water where this wind has blown

[ivyology]

I like to believe I can handle the cold, but I think it's a lie. Or maybe it isn't cold I can't handle but wind like today's, a wind like razors, wanting to strip me to the bone. So far March isn't any more to my liking than February, but surely spring is somewhere just ahead. Almost twenty-two years of existence and I manage to forget every time what the end of winter feels like. Or I don't forget but, rather, don't quite believe it ever feels this way. I remember the humid days of early summer, sun-warmed air, skies so bright they hurt, and I ache for it. Right now I'd give great sums of money to just be warm.

Maybe L is right after all. What sane person subjects themselves to this climate year after year? But oh, I know the truth, I know I'd be bored with anything else.

I like Monday nights. I never have work due on Tuesday, which makes all work I do entirely optional and subsequently I resent it far less when I do it. No class Tuesday morning means I can sleep, and I've lately come to acknowledge the painful necessity of decent sleep. At least in that when I'm rested my temperment improves a thousandfold.

Such was not the case today. Today I was tired and wished to kill everybody.