Why is there never any chai?

[timeripple]

No, really, why? How am I expected to get anything written without it? The best thing about writing is the chai. Iced chai is even better. I have things to write. Why must they take away my chai today?

It is not fair. I am sulky and cannot concentrate. WHERE IS MY CHAI, PEOPLE.

I spent Marathon Monday feeling just a bit nostalgic. My room has an A+ view of the proceedings down on Beacon Street. The Scream Tunnel is much better, of course. In a long-held tradition, I spent the afternoon in the library trying to work on a paper.

Also without chai, for the record. Epic fail.
...

I resigned myself to spring last Friday. Now there are many pretty-flowered trees, but I think I like the new leaves best. How I hate earliest spring, when the air gets warm and still nothing green grows upon the earth! I am dazzled at the mere thought of foliage.

Comments

[satakieli.livejournal.com]

Why do you have to resign yourself to spring? I am somewhat unenlightened by your statement about warm and lifeless. Is it just the temperature? Temperature-wise, I do prefer winter, in sunny places like New Mexico. Here in cloudier clime, however, I cherish the spring simply for the presence of light, glorious light, as the winter is five solid months of grey cloudy muck.

Ah, Marathon Monday. How I miss thee.