The inside of my head feels like this.

www.cloudappreciationsociety.org

There are many signs which usher in the change of the seasons. The opaque tights of winter yield to spring stockings. The cloud congested skies clear and are recreated inside my tiny little head. Yes, my traditional summer cold upon me, if a couple of days early. All the more painful in that the sun is shining it’s heart out and I have misplaced my “I vant to be alone” sunglasses. This leads me to the conclusion that the only thing worse than a summer cold is a badly accessorized one.