'Go west with this face and grow up with the country'

The weather as of late has been a ruthless mixture of blinding sunshine and heavy, extremely temporary snow, which inevitably preludes to a nice twenty-hours of slushy rain every time. We were lucky enough to get some of that good latter shit yesterday. I say, I do pick the lousiest days to be proactive. Though it was nice to get up early to a window full of pristine, snowy objects. Before the slush came. And it was nice to get up early. I had gone to bed at 10:30 the night before, and sleeping 'til nine felt like sleeping in. And you care. Because, well, who wouldn't? Yawn. I'm boring myself. I can tell by the heaviness of the clouds right now that today will not be a nice one; the sun is rising, but as a yolk embedded in a thick mucus of moisture, clouds of a velvety thickness, that mute out the rays.

Nothing is exciting anymore. I just want to go to Spain and be a drunkard.