christina speaks

Wool Coats in May

I’m beginning to wonder if dementors are breeding in Pittsburgh. I can hardly complain, since I moved back here at the end of February, when the ground begins to thaw and the slush somewhat subsides, from the mild winters of Washington, DC. (Seriously, if the air guessers even predict three inches of snow in the DC metro area, there’s a run on milk, bread and rock salt at every grocery store.)

But there’s something disconcerting about heading out for the day on May 19 and pulling on your winter wool coat, buttoning it up to the top button. By this time of the year, I feel like I shouldn’t be worried about making sure I have clean work socks, but I do. I’ve never been a big fan of spring, mostly due to the overabundant mud and the nauseating smell of freshly cut grass and the ricocheting temperatures (forty in the morning, seventy at noon makes me a cranky blogger), but I am so ready for this coldness to be done.

Andy Warhol’s over it, too.