Dear Mother Nature,
You think you’re so tough…You scream your lightening and stomp your thunder and cry your rain. But I am sick of it. I have been holed up in this house while you have spent the last week in your little tantrum and I’m here to tell you I’m done.
Honestly, the conspiracy theorist in me says you are being paid off by the Weed Union, keeping me from my flowerbeds and letting them grow wild. And by the Laundry Fairy who is a lazy bitch and won’t ever do the loads I leave her. But I don’t even want to go there. The ramifications of such injustices would be too far reaching for me to calculate and I just want to get out of the house.
So, consider this notice that I’m not taking your shit anymore. So spit and thunder all you want. I will be in my yard pulling weeds, trimming edges and pruning plants. Rain on me…I can take it.