No matter how much you might be craving ice cream, you should not have any when it's 13 degrees outside (with a wind chill of 2 degrees above zero). You will only be left shivering and muttering incoherent fantasies about bathing in hot chocolate with marshmallows.
Why do I always wish it was summertime and then once it arrives all I do is complain about the sun and the UNBELIEVABLE heat? Also this shaving everyday thing is really rubbing me the wrong way. So much responsibility. Dang I wish I was a penguin.
In Minnesota, it's been a balmy 40-some degrees for the past few days, which means people are traipsing about in shorts and flip-flops because apparently the thing to do when it's finally warm enough not to see your breath outside is to dress insensibly enough as to ensure you're still as cold as you've been for the past five months.
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