I saw some crocus action in my garden yesterday. You’d think I found a Barney’s gift card. It got this feeling of guarded optimism. I think you call it hope, although I’ve completely forgotten what that feels like, since it appears to have been frozen out of me during Boston’s Ice Age-ish winter.
I think, and I say this softly, so the evil behind the april 1st 1997 snowstorm doesn’t hear me, but I think spring might be here. I think this is the reason why I’m cruising the internet for new pillows featuring colors like hot pink (which I don’t even really like), why my eyes are puffy and my nose is runny (I’ll even take the allergies), and why I am smiling in my sleep.
Oh Mr. Winter, it is with great sadness that I see you go (NOT. AT ALL). I wish you a fond farewell. DON’T LET THE DOOR HIT YOU IN THE ASS ON YOUR WAY OUT.
