Open Letters #2: Save my Skin

Dear Winter,


I know you think you’re cool and all that, but I’m here to tell you that your coolness is touching me the wrong way. Literally. Now, I love breezy mornings as much as the next person, but what I don’t love is this:

Imagine waking up in a freezing room. You remove the covers and make a sleepy shuffle to the bathroom. Eyes still partially closed, you slip off any undergarments and take a seat. The surprise that follows is shocking; your ass is now temporarily frozen by the icicle of a toilet seat underneath you. You realize that you’ve already sat down and there’s no going back. So you brace it. You sit there, goosebumped, half-naked, and vulnerable to the elements, just trying to get your day started.

That’s messed up, Winter. What kind of prank is that? How would you like it if I came to your house and, for 2-4 months, consistently melted your ass every morning? I don’t know about you, but attempting to hover over Lake Eisurassof for 30-55 seconds every morning is messing with my head.  I just don’t have that kind of strength in the mornings!

Haven’t even had a slice of toast yet.

You don’t even get this, do you? You’re not even listening! I love you, I do. I really, really do. I just want you to leave the toilet seat and my warm thighs out of this. Or go to the neighbor’s house. I always hear them talking shit about you.

You’re not gonna do anything, huh? Well, at least my clothes won’t melt onto my skin (Yeah, I’m talking about you Summer. You’re next, you frilly piece of…).


Well, see you in the morning,


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