Thursday, September 23

Punch In The Arm

That last post was terribly morose, so let’s talk about the weather. If breakfast is the most important meal of the day, then the morning is the most important part of it. And the mornings in LA are, without fail, cloudy and cool.

Before I go on, I have to tell you that I’m from New York, and I just moved here (to LA).

Now, I should explain the root of my problem with changeable weather: When it’s raining, or even overcast, my brain naturally adjusts itself to the situation. The second I wake up, look out the window, and evaluate the color of the day, I flip one of the switches on.

On grey days, I’m on comfy setting, the kind of mood in which your sole desire is to hunker down at home with a blanket, some buttery, delicious microwave popcorn, and a classic tearjerker like Sleepless in Seattle, waiting for the thunder to come. *NB, per the boy (this is the boy),



I’m not allowed to watch this movie in my house anymore.

Yellow/Orange days require a happy boost, for which you have to flip the switch to take in the most good stuff possible in a day.

Finally, white days are for suckers who don’t have migraines. I don’t like to open my eyes on a white day. It hurts too much.

I’m a little off-topic, since this post was intended to explain “PUNCH IN THE ARM”. Basically, it’s just an anger thing, manifested in friendly, frisky demeanor. I only punch the boy, because he’s big enough, strong enough, and doesn’t really mind. He does, however, want to replace his arm with an actual punching bag. And I’m looking into it, but I don’t love these, and I don’t think our landlords would appreciate our installing one of these.

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