"It's all my fault!" thought Jorth despondently (and not a little guiltily) as she stood at the window. Usually, at this juncture, the writer would insert some sort of verb - looking, staring, gazing - but Jorth could do none of these, as the rain was hammering down so hard, and lashing the glass so mightily, that naught could be seen through the pane at all, and Jorth had to content herself with standing there, feeling the cold ooze through to chill her bones, and the writer had to content herself with a surplus of commas in one very long sentence instead.
Jorth moved away, and sat down at her sewing machine. "If only I hadn't declared on my blog earlier in the week that winter was almost over and done with. Instead, I had to go and open my big mouth, and as a result we've been cursed with a weekend of hail, frosts and bitter cold. You duffer, Jorth!"
Still, every cloud has a silver lining, and there were plenty of big fat grey clouds in the sky for Jorth to pick from. "At least", she considered, turning her thoughts towards a more optimistic bent, "I'll have plenty of time to both finish up and wear my bright orange dress before the warm weather truly comes!"
And with that she happily began sewing her Vogue 8742 in soft merino wool, unwittingly beginning to hum that famous song by Travis as she did so.