I'm sorry my psycho cat ripped a hole in you and caused a ridiculous amount of down feathers to come flying out. I'm also sorry I had to temporarily fix you with scotch tape for day, and you felt embarrassed that you looked cheap for a milli-second to the Chicagoans I passed on the bus.
I know you're in the warranty department right now... and I'm getting slightly worried that you're enjoying the California weather a bit much. It feels good right!? You're probably basking in the sun while you wait another 4 - 6 weeks to get a thread of yarn pulled through you. Wake up... NF... you're not on vaca.
I'm beginning to also think you're a little lazy, North Face jacket. And that you don't love me anymore. Not like you used to. You're taking me for granted... that I'll always be there... you know what will always be here?? Winter.
I miss your sleek black coat... and the way you made 40 below feel like just 10 below. How you fell all the way to my feet and made me feel like a marshmallow every time I wore you.
May I remind you that it's still cold here. You're leaving me with my measly pea coat, made by J. Lo, while the Chicago wind is prepared at any moment to sweep me away to Wisconsin where I'll most likely be eating cheese and drinking brandy all day.
Come back. I miss you. I'm cold.
Yours Truly,
C to the OL to the Leen
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