Look, there's no emoji for "I've watched the sun for eleven minutes total since October," so the depressed face is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. Pennsylvania is a state where you can drive four hours and still be in Pennsylvania, where the official weather forecast is "gray, with a chance of more gray," and where an entire region's emotional wellbeing hinges on whether a rodent in Punxsutawney saw his own shadow. That's not a state, that's a cry for help with a turnpike running through it.
Then there's the Eagles fans, the Steelers fans, the people who put cheese from a pump on a sandwich and call it lunch, and the Wawa vs. Sheetz civil war that has ended friendships. You love it. You're also deeply unwell about it. Both things are true.
Whatever version you grab, it's soft as hell, holds its shape after way too many washes, and feels like a hug from someone who also has seasonal affective disorder. Wear it to the grocery store. Wear it to therapy. Nobody's judging.
