As Brian and I shared our views on Erie weather while I peeled an orange and he ate his lunch, he said that he complains a little too much about the cold, when really the weather he hates is the overcast gray sky.
"It's the dullnes that's kind of depressing," he said.
"Yeah," I said, wrestling with the peel. "It's the dismal, heavy blanket of clouds that hangs over the sky and drenches everything in a sense of infinite sorrow."
There was a pause.
"Yes, that," he said.
I laughed.
These poor people never know what's going to hit them or when. Ordinarily, with me, it's in vino poetess; but sometimes the words will out, and my conversation partner realizes that there's something intense in my relationship with language which subsequently shapes how I view the world. The more relaxed I feel in my environment, the less the filter in my head translates everything to Joe Six-Pack vocabulary for the sake of my listeners.
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