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nice day surprise
The big surprise for me today wasn't that I really didn't need a coat when I headed out to the Jefferson Mark-up at midday; it was that I was actually, after all, able to enjoy that little surprise. Ya see, for weeks I've been prepping myself for the shame of it all when the first really nice day came and I was still (as I was sure I'd be) morose and downcast; chuckle-free; most worthy of my title as Queen of Mudville.
But lo; behold: I actually took some pleasure! Waltzed down the street chatting with an unlikely coworker for me to be hangin' with on a break. Talked a bit about the dire state the country's in and still felt good. Picked out a few funny little toys for my 5 year-old charge-to-be and sauntered back, marvelling at this most predictable of rebirths, the changing of seasons.
Once inside I threw open a window and took a minute to watch the crazy playground shenanigans next door. Those kids---what do they think about this business? How many of these transitions can they even remember?
I am happy to be alive this day.
But lo; behold: I actually took some pleasure! Waltzed down the street chatting with an unlikely coworker for me to be hangin' with on a break. Talked a bit about the dire state the country's in and still felt good. Picked out a few funny little toys for my 5 year-old charge-to-be and sauntered back, marvelling at this most predictable of rebirths, the changing of seasons.
Once inside I threw open a window and took a minute to watch the crazy playground shenanigans next door. Those kids---what do they think about this business? How many of these transitions can they even remember?
I am happy to be alive this day.
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*does the happy-to-be-alive dance*
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I'm rooting for your new crush, by the way.
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I'm rooting for my new crush too, but I'd forgotten just how all-consuming instant crushes on people I'd barely met (online, even) were capable of being. She wrote me one simple one-page-long email and I've spent every single second of the subsequent 30 hours reloading her web page 600 times, biting my fingernails, reloading my own web pages and attempting to view them through her eyes, editing them in hopes of impressing her more, and obsessing over when she'll write to me next. Where has my brain gone? Aren't I supposed to have more sensible priorities than this? At this rate, by the time she lets me down and breaks my heart I'll just be profoundly relieved to be able to get a functioning non-hormone-impaired brain back again.
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