May I call you John?
Yes ... this IS a Dear John letter.
Please, don't be offended. It's me. Not you.
I mean, let's just be honest and say that many of the reasons I'm breaking up with you are the same reasons I loved you in the first place.
Your crisp white snow? Yes, I admit, it is lovely and bright and stunning.
Until you have to shovel so. stinking. much. of it and are now lifting shovels full over mounds that are taller than your children.
Your brisk refreshing temperatures? Yeah, those stopped being fun when you added the crazy freakin winds that blew my hat down the sidewalk and dropped the already low temps to conditions which are not natural or kind to this arizona girl. I mean, I CHOSE to honeymoon in Alaska, I like to be cool ... I just also like to feel the tips of my appendages. And, no, the burning that comes as they are recovering from near frostbite does. not. count.
Hoodies? You and I both know that I love me a good hoodie. But, when I go through hoodies like I have been and actually contemplate SLEEPING in them? Not OK.
The sweaters? I' am OVER having to wear layers UNDER them.
All this to say, you and I are through. Please pack it up and go.
Yeah ... not only breaking up with you, I am also evicting you. Spring is ready to move in, so you need to go.
Thank you so much for understanding.
Love ... well, USED to be love,
Sunday, March 2, 2014