Agus Tornabene ’19
It is because of the nature of the arrangements that we find ourselves under, that this author is now charged with the arduous duty of relaying to those souls lucky enough not to find themselves under the yoke of our circumstances the situation in which we find ourselves. It is without peace of mind that this author is compelled to spell out a description, yet this description is restricted to the sad course of events that has composed our weather as of late. It is with a heavy heart that I now must turn towards describing the situation that has so bedeviled our splendid little community:
The climate has been rather keen on destroying every sense of security and stability in our community. Its humors have been determined to abolish the sense of predictability that is paramount to the proper functioning of our beloved school. Naturally, this author must now explain to his readership the reasoning behind such strong statements. As much as it pains the author to do so, he understands that his readership lacks the intellect necessary to understand, without the aid of one of superior genius, the complicated statements made by his person a few lines ago. However understanding of the situation upon which his readers find themselves, the author will now turn towards describing in further detail what he intended to communicate with his previous statements, not without first noting that he does so with a dose of sadness, for his limited intellect is being wasted on such a menial task as explaining to those possessing less capacity for thought than he, what he means when he writes. Yet I digress, not without first making clear that if this piece were being written merely for the pleasure of the writer, this unnecessary explanation would be indeed unnecessary. Only after having thus explained the necessity of this further explanation of the statements made above may we finally turn towards a description of the awful circumstances that our inclement climates have given us:
Just a few weeks ago, it seemed as though spring was finally upon us. The collective hum of fans could be heard from miles away as those of us unlucky enough to lack air conditioning attempted to rid our living spaces of the unstoppable heat. One could see the heat rising from the asphalt, recoil from it if one were to touch a handrail, be drenched because of it. So as our aggregate body odor mounted up, students took out their shorts, Mr. Guldin started opening up the pool, the Warmacks gave Biscuit an unnecessary haircut, there were even some sightings of Walker Scholars outside of their natural habitat, the library. Indeed our splendid little community was rapidly filled with hope about our plans for this spring. We foolishly thought that the days of the dull, bitter cold were finally over and we would be able to enjoy our campus.
But no, for as this author has already expressed, our climate has been rather keen on destroying our balance. As soon as roommates started hatching plots to keep their rooms cooler, and new propositions were made for the removal of certain hindrances to the full opening of certain windows, the whether made a sudden turn. The hyperborean winds returned and hope faded from the eyes of all. Suddenly our community lost its balance, something went wrong. Biscuit is cold from the lack of protective hair, according to Mr. Guldin, the “pool is green,” comforters have been brought out for all to see once more, and fans have gone quiet.
To add insult to injury, a deluge knocked our splendid little community off its poorly heated feet. Apparently, somebody peer-pressured our climate into splitting two trees in half by the entrance. The sudden surplus of water, which was obviously cruelly designed to remind us of the heat wave that we had enjoyed the week before, caused the white-flagging of one of the only sources of appeasement for Woodberry boys, the river.
Now it seems that the climate has reverted back to its default state of bitter cold. This author has just one complaint against this outrage, directed at our climate: The next time you find yourself at Woodberry and want to completely derange the very spirits of a community, take I-95 up to EHS and have at it. Otherwise you might find an angry mob waiting for you next time you show up. We might not have pitchforks, yet there is an ample supply of lacrosse sticks and hunting knives. *
*Note: For some reason, over half our splendid little community feels the need to be armed, maybe they are worried about the ISIS agents lurking around campus, otherwise known as Mr. Reimers’ cats.