November is, by far, my least favourite month of the year. Even if I forgive it for the lack of holidays, there's still the dreary constant reminder that winter is upon us. November taunts us; giving out nice warm weather like it's candy and November is the caring old lady next door. Except the candy ends up having razors stuck in its gooey yummy caramel centres: snow.
I even bought ice cream last night because in the movies that's what women eat when they are in the depths of despair.
I have a magic 8 ball on the table that's hated me since November 1st. Every time I ask something REALLY IMPORTANT (for serious, real pressing-issue questions), I get this:
It laughs at me as I shake again, really trying to concentrate on the question once more.
Gone are the days when we were friends, the real kind. The "Without a Doubt" kind. Everyone's against me.
I'm convinced I'm pregnant. The floors are still not done at the apartment. Flowers on my desk are wilting. I'm cold 90% of the time at the office. I ate a chocolate bar and gained 5 lbs. I just ordered the wrong sized pants online (although a few more chocolate bars and we'll be golden). The last Glee episode sucked. I've filled the back tire of my car a total of 15 times already. And it snowed yesterday. SNOWED.
In other words:
In retrospect, possibly not the BEST time to come back here to blog. However, the highway is now clear. Probably so that nobody will be around when my tire pops.
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