A burnt cake in the oven

I hate the weather!! Absolutely hate it! Without a doubt!

I would swear at the weather, if only he would understand me! I would put up a fight with him, if he has limbs. I would try means and ways to make him cry, the way to make him pay for the fiery temper we have been putting up. How much do we love him for the light and warmth he has given us? How much again do we hate him for making us melt like a snowman under the scorching heat! Every step under the mighty sun, I feel my pores opening and the sweat glands begin to work like a factory. I feel my shirt getting soaked, my throat getting dry and my skin getting burnt. I hate 32°, 33°, 34° and all of their extended families.

I want to hide inside the house, warming my hands with a cuppa as I watch the snow falling and the smile on my face widening. I want!