Paper or Vomit

Man, you would think Armageddon was upon us with this weather recently.

On Sunday we decided to go out for breakfast, and when we walked out the front door, it was hailing rock salt sized hail like a mother, peppering the lawn and street. I thought it would be raining frogs when we returned. Instead, when we returned it was sunny and clear with birds a-tweeting – just as strange a transition if you ask me.

On Monday, it was snowing ever so delicately when I left the house. After I got settled in at the office, a blizzard promptly settled in as well, which pulsated throughout the day. No snow stuck, so I suppose (from inside the heated office) it was harmless, but we were definitely inside of a snow globe.

PLUS there’s that whole sordid affair called Daylight Savings Time (I hate you and am moving to Arizona) wherein everyone is shuffling around, head lolling to the side because they were rudely awoken by hour-early alarm clocks and forced to brave the cold on a Monday morning. The Starbucks line I walk by when it’s cold was at least twice its normal length. The horror!

The miserable precipitation coupled with so many downturned heads really just screams that a Paper or Vomit tournament is in order.

Paper or Vomit is this game I invented on my most recent trip to New York last summer. Whenever a city’s streets are wet, they are covered in various colors and consistencies of mush. One never can tell if they are about to step in harmless streak of rainwater/paper concoction, or a landmine of last night’s drunkard sick. It’s really quite an extraordinary game, and one is quite motivated to play because the consequence of being wrong is vomit on the shoe.

But as lovely as that game is, and as privileged as I am to be afforded the opportunity to play, oh Mighty Weather Gods, I would so dearly love to just trade this madness in for a REAL March. Ok? I’ll love you forever and like your for always.

Yours truly,
Ms. Moot