Spring, fall, winter, or summer- the weather could not care less what time of the year it was. It continued as a single entity boundless of norms or correction. It rained when it was not the rainy season and snowed in ninety-degree weather. It blew winds of one hundred miles per hour when no one asked it to, and the very next day, there would be a tornado watch. During hurricane season, there were no hurricanes, and summer was technically year-long. The inability to cooperate with people’s needs was an extraordinary talent it possessed. Days when rain was expected, rain never arrived, and when it would be a bright and beautiful day in the morning, by afternoon, rainfall flooded the streets. Winter never brought snowfall until the next year, and don’t worry, spring always arrived on time to melt it all away. Fall would pretend to be summer for the longest time and then settle into winter. Maybe it’ll rain today. Maybe it’ll snow tomorrow. It was unpredictable. The most beautiful days were ruined by the most vicious storms by midday. The mornings would promise sunny days, the afternoons would flood cracked roads, and the evenings would freeze unprotected lips. In one day, all four seasons spanned from early morning to midnight. What terrible crime did we commit to induce this recurring curse? How can the weather be so dysfunctional, bipolar and inconvenient? Where was the only place that could achieve something so bizarre? Welcome to Georgia, folks.