The weather in Atlanta has been so bizarre that I can't help but think that we're a small, head nodding, scene in b-grade sitcom that ends with a cliched "wom, wom, wommmm". The forecast suggests high winds in the afternoon with storms in the evening and, within minutes, the morning sun and a few potted plants get blown away by a puppy melting downfall and then, as I am closing the last window, the sun sticks out it's tongue and all is calm.
All of these mixed messages remind me of OMD's "Crush", right down to the horns. While I know we need the moisture, I still can't stand this rain and its dark irony.
