(Yes, it’s another whine. Just keep on walking if you’re sick of my shit already.)
It was 80 freaking degrees today.
I know. I just heard the collective sigh go up from all of you: “Is she really whining about THAT?” Yes, friends, I am. I am a rain-girl. A fog-lover. I am Fall’s greatest fan. And you know what? I totally freaking love snow.
80 degrees. In November. I am not down with this.
Now I’m depressed, sad, lonely, stressed, worried, tired, hungry, AND hot.
I believe–I want to believe–that things will be better after this weekend. GB gets his Bar exam results on Friday. I present my crappy paper on Saturday, and I will probably also see The Advisor, who I am pretty sure is going to break up with me at this conference. I meet with Editor-Person on Sunday. Sunday and Monday nights I
get drunk off my ass hang out all sober-like and enjoy having my scary parts of the weekend over. And then I come back from Giant Conference in time to go have Thanksgiving at GB’s parents’ (which is good, though if you know me, you know that not having Thanksgiving with friends? Sucks ass, in my world), then we have a doctor visit/ultrasound/sequential screening, which will hopefully put my mind a bit more at ease–and will mark the end of this goddamn first trimester. So yeah. I’m thinking that by December I should be feeling better.
And the average high temperature here in December is supposed to be 69 degrees. It better be.