Weblog
I have decided that there is one, single, paramount reason why I must make sure that my ass is out of the house and off to work promptly on time at 8:30 in the morning. Any later than that, and the sun has already preheated the city of Boston to a feverishly uncomfortable 90+ degrees. By noon, all of our skepticism about the afterlife is momentarily suspended as the smoldering legions of Hell take to the street in an all-out torrent of fire and brimstone.
I dearly miss the drier, significantly less retarded heat of Southern California, but in the grand scheme of things, I don’t think it makes sense to be nostalgic about a certain variant of a certain condition of weather. That’s kind of frivolous.
There are other things specific to the Golden State that I wish I could enjoy at least once before returning to Cornell. I just don’t think about them as much because, unlike the heat, they aren’t all over my body all the time, making me sweaty and generally uncomfortable during my walk home. They also don’t annoy me when I’m trying to find my way home the morning after an evening of supreme inebriation.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m no pansy. When playing sports and exercising or when tasked with manual labor or when killing dragons, I’m never too afraid to dive in, get my hands dirty, and break a sweat. I’m no stranger to physical exertion. I love it. I just don’t think I should have to break a sweat when… well, standing around.
That’s like, stupid.
Put away your party hats, boys and girls; clearly, this new design is no where near completed.