I sit here, in my nice, comfortable dorm room with four walls and a roof and a bed and a closet and an internet connection, stressed out about the problem sets I have to finish this week.
Meanwhile, the fiery hellstorm of the apocalypse is taking place basically outside my house’s front door. I just feel so removed from it — which I suppose is good, because I can’t do anything, but still. I’m looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving. I want my house–and everyone else’s houses–to be there, too.
So Nature–listen up. I thought you didn’t betray the heart that loves you (that’s Wordsworth, folks).
Oh wait. Maybe she doesn’t feel loved. Though I can’t imagine why.
(And that’s tongue-in-cheek, folks.)