Status Check:
Date: December 13.
Season: Damn near close to winter.
Exterior temperature measured 26 minutes ago in Santa Monica, CA: 61 degrees.
Summary of content of recent e-mail from friend in Boston: We just got two feet of snow and it's freezing cold here, you ratfucker.
What I want to do most: Curl up in bed with some hot chocolate spiked with Bailey's Irish Cream, listen to songs that remind me of Christmas in the Northeast (I still don't know why, but Interpol's "NYC" is at the top of that list right now) and watch snow fall.
Why I can't do that: Haven't you been reading? It's 61 degrees outside! Snow never falls at 61 degrees! Well... is it genetically mutated snow?
And now you understand why not only I'm terribly confused as to what time of year it is, but also why I feel a little out of place and a little lonely.