Jealousy.

So New York got a record-breaking blizzard or some such. Baltimore City is buried. All we got were some some dustings. Like flirtations from the person you want for Valentine’s Day, only they are forced, half-assed, hardly there, and so you don’t even want them. After several grey days that didn’t give me any snow to take photos of or to construct dirty snowmen and snowwomen, I’m glad the sun’s out today. But I know, buried people with buried cars who can’t get to their hurried jobs will tell me that I don’t know what I’m asking for, that I’m better off. Like unhappily-joined people tell single people on Valentine’s Day, as if they really know other people’s hearts or as if everyone will fail to appreciate what they have like they have.