I'm sick of being the driver.
Being the only one of my friends who drives or has an access to a car, I am torn between going out or not going out. If I go out, I must drive. If I don't want to drive, I can't go out. Perfect little math equation. If something, then something. Let X=Marissa's laziness. Let Y=Saturday nights at home.
You do the math.
It's beginning to snow here. Can you believe this? I'm reminded of a quote from a great little journal I read regularly:
"Okay, not to be wearying on this particular subject, but this flagrant disassociation from the truth by those at the National Weather Service has just got to stop. I was promised -- promised! -- 45 degree weather today, and what do I get? Snowflakes the size of bumble bees! Even now they're falling from the sky, mocking me in their polyploidial size and unnatural enthusiasm to aggravate my Seasonal Affective Disorder." http://journals.aol.com/johnmscalzi/bytheway/
It's only right that it should start to snow again. When it began to melt, I was excited and a little hopeful that I would find love soon. And now that it's snowing, it fits almost perfectly together with my slightly broken heart and lack of faith in love and meteorologists.
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