dear winter storm #323

ok winter. seriously, the jig is up. get a hint: you're no longer welcome here. it's time you pack up your stuff and go.

(no really, it's not me, it's you. i dont think it's healthy that either of us continue this relationship.) you're driving me crazy, and well, to be honest, i'm sick of you. you're cold and dull and not to mention, very very sloppy. and i'm just not a sloppy kind of girl.

so please, just go while we both still have our dignity intact. don't worry; i promise that i won't talk smack about you after you leave -- as a matter of fact, if you go soon i might even be able to fool myself into thinking that the next time i see you, i'll be happy about it. i might even have bought myself that pair of skis i've been mulling over for the past two years. but that's pushing it.

i have to be honest as well; i've met someone else. someone who makes me feel suntanned and warm, and who doesn't frostbite me when i want to wear flipflops on a run out to the grocery store for more vanilla yogurt. that wasn't cool, and no, i still haven't forgiven you for that one. and neither have my toes.

you can find your stuff all packed in the back of my closet, behind my espadrilles and tank tops. (sorry, i'm not trying to rub it in, i'm just getting ready for the next stage in my life. i have to move on at some point, you know.) please come and get it as soon as you possibly can, and we can just walk away with our heads held high.

throwing another storm isn't going to change my mind; i wish you'd figure this out. anyone else would have figured it out months ago... or at least just after christmas.

regardless, it's over. you should go. or i should. i heard cuba's nice this time of year.