Ain't No Sunshine

The weather is changing so naturally, unlike this weather change, all I have to talk about with people who I've decided shouldn't know in full that I'm a hater, is the changing weather.

Here are different scenarios in which it is not only appropriate, but rather inappropriate to not, talk about the weather.

  • You're in the elevator with your office manager and while it'd be ideal to ride this elevator alone, it'd probably be a bad idea to pull your headphones on and turn to face the small corner of the lift. "Finally pulled out the scarf," you say tugging a bit too earnestly on the makeshift noose around your neck. 
  • It's pouring rain outside and you've spent the past two hours under blankets reaping the benefits of the $7/mo Hulu Plus you just "invested in." You've ordered take out and 30 minutes after calling in the doorbell rings, which is when you remember it's pouring rain and you feel like a horrible privileged shrew making someone bike in this weather. "Jeez, some nasty weather out there," you say shrugging your shoulders and making crab claw grabs at your Chicken Tikka Masala. As the door closes, the only thing you have in common with the delivery guy is you both hate you.
  • On the phone with your mother and you don't want to hang up and find yourself having to face the reality that you are very very alone in the big city you live in by yourself, so you grasp for anything to talk about. "I find that whatever weather you have down there we get two hours later." *Click* And you find your fears to be very true and discomforting.
  • It's mid-Autumn at this point, and a massive super-storm, similar to the one that wreaked havoc on the Eastern seaboard last year, is headed toward your small and fragile town. Before the government mandate to remain indoors goes into place, you run to the corner convenience store to pick up a six pack and a lighter so you can at least be stranded and high. As you are about to leave the clerk makes brief eye contact and says "Be careful out there." "You too" you reply, though you both know that even in the chance you do survive this freak storm predicted to destroy every physical memory you ever made, human politeness is futile in the grand scope of things. Also, last week he shorted you 2 dollars in change.
  • The world has been obliterated and all that remains are the several hundred people who were on the A train, under the Natural History Museum, which for whatever reason was completely preserved. As you embark onto the post-apocalyptic planet from the underground shuttle you were safeguarded in, the sky eerily serene and the sun shining bright as a newly wiped dry-erase board, you turn to the woman next to you and say, "Man, hope the weather stays like this!"

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