Dear Boston,
Did you know it is now April? Or that spring began a few weeks ago? Because I think you, the atmosphere, and the seasonal calendar need to have a talk. For some reason, I feel like you are all on different pages. Did you have a fight? Or are you on a break? There seems to be a high level of miscommunication between you three, like you all have your own agenda on this vital group project. You must have watched this year’s Groundhog Day results and decided that Punxsutawney Phil was wrong. Yes, I realize that he is a groundhog, but a reliable one.
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Have you seen what the people in this city are resigned to wearing? Today I was sporting a dress and tomorrow it’s supposed to snow. My Hunters have a hole in them; where was my warning or my time to prepare for this sudden change? What happened to consistency? As you know, I’m from California, where the weather is consistent year-round, so my expectations may be too high. This year, however, is not my first rodeo. I’ve even lived in Canada where it was a steady 2℉, but your volatility gets to me. Have you no sympathy for your residents?
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Your mood swings are barely tolerable at best. My black hole of a purse has become an emergency kit for whatever you throw my way. If ever asked, “Do you have…” my answer is always, “Yes.” An umbrella? Check. A pair of fleece lined gloves? Check. An extra shirt for when I sweat through my sweater? Check. Don’t judge, I know it’s excessive. What say you to us poor plebs who live at your mercy? Nothing? I get it, you just throw us the worst wind tunnels instead. That one between I.V. and Ruggles is a special treat. Instead, maybe learn from your Southern counterpart, Washington D.C., and let flowers bloom when spring begins, and don’t make it snow in April. It’s time to take it down a notch and let us live our lives in a balmy 50 degrees.
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Thanks,
Olivia