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Written, Friday, Jan. 09, 2004 at around: 1:35 PM

It is COLD outside

Dear Winter,

Could you lighten up a bit? I mean, I remember all the mean things I've said about you over the years, and most of them I did mean, but still. Winter. This is just mean.

You can't even give us the decency of a snow day? I mean, if it was snowing outside at least this bitter weather you keep kicking our asses with would be worthwhile. But no. You know we won't get off of work for 3 below tempatures. I see how it is.

Has it really gotten to this point? How am I supposed to battle you? It's like Winterfell outside (A location in that fantasy novel I'm reading, I think you saw me read it as I protected my face from your bitter winds with it).

I'm a child of your own loins. January is where I come from, man! There should be an understanding between us. I was born on a muggy day with rain. I'm pretty sure that my 23rd birthday will not be muggy or rainy in any way, shape, or form.

Just give me a break man.

love and adoration,

pam


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copyright pam newman, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004 goddamnit. ... You over reacted?