Local Man’s Hands Already FED UP with Seasonal Abuse

*NOTE: This was written on December 1st, 2017*

Now that you’ve put on a light, but long-sleeved shirt and stepped out your door to be greeted by the 500 mph winds and spent your walk to work thinking about why in the hell your mom doesn’t text you a reminder to wear a damn sweater, it’s officially fall! And along with the changing of the leaves and the pumpkin-flavored treats and the scarves so stupidly large you worry that the tiny brunette underneath can’t breathe, it’s time for the yearly mistreatment of our most useful body parts- our hands. And one man named Kevin has hands that are FED UP. “Literally it’s only like a week into November and I’m BLEEDING! Wear some fucking gloves, Kevin! Practice some preventative care for Christ’s sake!”. Hands go through a particularly rough time during the fall months when it’s cold enough to be wearing gloves, but humans (being morons) need a full 1-2 months to decide it’s time to take that step. This leaves our poor hands dry and rough, cracking and bleeding, and, in Kevin’s case, throwing a tantrum. “Honestly you KNOW it’s cold enough to start wearing your Canada Goose, so PLEASE put on a pair of gloves! I’ll literally settle for MITTENS at this point, Kevin! This is bullshit!”. To make it all that much worse, if the person is addicted to pumpkin-spice like your mom is addicted to decorative hand-towels, then those hands are in for a rapid and extreme fluctuation in a bad way, not unlike a freshman pre-med’s grades after the second midterm. Unfortunately for Kevin’s hands, he’s a Starbucks whore: “WHY DEAR GOD can’t you use a fucking cup sleeve?! They’re RIGHT THERE. You are destroying any sensation in me, Kevin! What have I ever done to you to deserve this!”. There is hope, however, for some hands when students emerge from their hovels of single, sad-boy (or girl!) life for cuffing season. The absolute disgust that crosses a normal, lotion-applying, hands-respecting individual’s face when they’re gripped by the equivalent of a bright red claw from a lizard that went extinct in the Ice Age with little rivulets of dried blood is possibly enough to motivate someone to at least use their sweater pockets more often to protect their most-used appendages from the elements. But not Kevin! “JESUS KEVIN DID YOU FEEL THOSE HANDS! It was like being embraced by the smooth, warm, vanilla-scented folds of a baby seal. But I will NEVER feel those angel wings again because you’ve DESTROYED ME KEVIN! I’m a MESS now, having incurred IRREPERABLE DAMAGE. I HOPE YOUR HAPPY KEVIN BECAUSE YOU’LL BE USIN’ ME A LOT MORE NOW THAT YOU’VE LOST YOUR ONLY POTENTIAL SAVIOR FROM A WINTER ALONE AND LEMME TELL YOU BUDDY THIS AIN’T THE KIND OF ROUGH LOVING YOU’RE INTO”.