The wind

I know this is going to sound retarded, because it is, but MAN does the wind ever get on my nerves. I mean, here I am, out walking and trying to enjoy my book, and this wind just blows and blows all over me. It musses up and tangles my hair, it touches me all over and invades my personal space, it makes me cold when I sweat (I also have a strong dislikin' for my stupid sweat glands, always trying to cool me off when I'm freezing), it blows the pages of my book all over the place, and it doesn't even respond to impassioned shouts, pleading cries, or placating tones. It just keeps on blowing and blowing and blowing. I know there must be a lesson in this somewhere. I suspect that if I can ever come to terms with this irrational, emotional reaction I feel towards a simple force of nature, then life will become a lot simpler and less problem ridden for me. I might even graduate from Full Fledged Retard to Promising Simpleton.