I Feel Like Mold
It's not something I particularly like about myself, but weather affects my moods. When it is hot and humid for days on end, I become lathargic and irritable. During the height of winter's fury, when the wind cuts through your parka like it isn't even there, I am borderline giddy. It has been raining for the entire month of May and I am blue. I do not mind overcast skies, but the constant downpours, the perpetual puddles, the constant peety odor, these things are killing me by increments. I love getting caught in the occasional bonechilling November rain, but this merry old England impression is intolerable. This isn't a single crushing blow, no, that could be withstood and survived; this is a pernicious malaise, a rotting from the inside out.

Avril
On the other hand, upon first listen Under My Skin is awesome, much more rock and far less pop than Let Go. If she could get past her rabid hatred, The Watergirl would like "Don't Tell Me," especially in light of last weekend's unpleasantness. My favorite song to this point is "He Wasn't." It's a very Margaret Eastman song.