May 14, 2021

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I would marry the weatherman today, if he would have me after all the winter-weary whining and missed forecast trash-talking I’ve carelessly lobbed like litter out the window in his direction the past few weeks. Forgive me, for on a morning such as this, he is nothing less than a mythological god, a saint, a holy being, a shiny sterling pietist and a glorious angel with wings wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket.