Ahhhh, spring. That time of natural and spiritual renewal, when life shrugs off the long cold grip of winter and embraces life anew, reveling in the rebirth and joy that the change of seasons brings. The heart lifts, the trees bloom, and smiles and good feelings towards all creation shine forth from the sense of freedom and reawakening that only Spring can bring.

SO WHY THE FUCK IS IT 38 FUCKING DEGREES OUTSIDE WITH A FUCKING WIND CHILL DOWN TO 29 FUCKING DEGREE ON THE 22ND FUCKING DAY MARCH? JESUS H. CHRIST I GO OUTSIDE TO HAVE A FUCKING CIGARETTE SO I DON’T TEAR OUT SOMEONE’S FUCKING SPINE SUB-ZERO STYLE AND I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING ARCTIC BLAST WITH 35 FUCKING MILE PER FUCKING HOUR FUCKING WINDS IN MY FUCKING FACE AND IT’S NOT LIKE I LIVE IN SOME FUCKING HELLHOLE LIKE SIBERIA OR ALASKA OR MINNESOTA NO I LIVE IN FUCKING DELAWARE WHERE THE FUCKING WEATHER IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING MILD AND WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON I FUCKING HATE FEBRUARY SO WHY THE FUCK IS STILL GOING 22 FUCKING DAYS LATER FOR CHRIST FUCKING SAKE.

I mean, I get it. Weather is unpredictable, patterns change, cold snaps happen, climate change, et cetera et cetera. Chaos Theory shows that a bunch of scientists will dedicate their lives coming up with an elaborate explanation and theory that basically boils down to Shit Happens, and that a butterfly flapping its wings in Ecuador will somehow CAUSE ME TO STAND OUTSIDE IN FUCKING MARCH HUDDLED UP LIKE A FUCKING ESKIMO FOR TEN FUCKING MINUTES ONLY TO DISCOVER THAT THE FUCKING ASH TRAY HAS A FUCKING SKIN OF FUCKING ICE ON IT AT ONE O’CLOCK IN THE FUCKING AFTERNOON LIKE IT’S FUCKING DECEMBER OR SOME FUCKING SHIT AND THE FUCKING BUILDINGS AROUND ME ARE CHANNELING EVERY FUCKING ZEPHYR INTO A FUCKING GALE THAT BLOWS IN EVERY FUCKING DIRECTION SIMULTANEOUSLY AND IF I COULD GET MY FUCKING LIGHTER TO WORK I WOULD SET MY FUCKING COAT ON FIRE WHILE I’M WEARING IT FOR A FEW FUCKING SECONDS OF FUCKING WARMTH.

So, yeah. Happy fucking Spring, everyone.