Dear Weather,
You've been warm for six months. This is getting out of hand. I live in Brooklyn, which is supposed to have four seasons. You're running out of time to squeeze them all in, and I am watching you shut either my window for delightful, in-between, corduroy jacket weather, or my window for fun, romping-in-the-snow weather. (You simply will not have time for both if you keep this up. And we won't even talk about your sucking spring right into summer.) You are vexing me.
Please, cut it out.
Adair