Dear Wind,
I only like you in the summer and sometimes in the fall. Other than that, you freeze me to Death. Stop getting through my improperly insulated windows. I blame you, in part, for my $250 gas bill (I blame the other part on all the frozen pizza I eat). Anyway, you tangle up my gloriously long, shiny, beautiful hair. Asshole.
Damn the uneven heating of the earth,
Emily Illinois
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