Last week was our millionth week of forty degree weather. I am not exaggerating. One million weeks. And since I packed away my winter things at the end of March, I ran around with frozen fingers and frozen ears AGAIN. Was it hope, or an innate stubborn nature that prevented me from unpacking my winter gear? It was hope, truly. I believed, with my whole heart, that my beloved Spring would arrive any day. The bulbs in the gardens were beginning to sprout, the tree branches bare but prickling green. Any day now, I told myself. Any day now.
This past Sunday, without warning, Summer reared it's ugly head. Summer, with it's melting humidity and searing heat. Summer, a season of sweat stains and acne. A season of clothes that stick to skin and feet that swell so shoes don't fit. A season of filthy miserable wetness.
Spring hath forsaken me. Spring is that boy from high school, the one I had that terrible crush on, the one to whom I wrote notes that went like this:
"Dear Dustin. I really really really like you. You are so
beautiful and smart. You're eyes are blue like the ocean at midnight. I've liked you
forever. That's why I sit next to you in English. DON'T YOU KNOW THAT? Seriously. Why won't you talk to me? It really hurts my feelings. I cry every night over you. I think we'd make a really cute couple. Don't you think I'm pretty? Don't you want to go out with me? Check 'yes' or 'no'."
And then he'd neither check 'yes' nor 'no', but crumple up my note and drop it in the trash.
I've been dropping love notes in Spring's book bag for four months and this weekend I got my answer. I said: Love me? Spring said: SUCK IT, CHUMP.
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Update: The day after I posted this the weather dropped back into the sixties. It has been cool and rainy every since. And me? I AM NOT COMPLAINING.
11 comments:
This is bullshit, is what it is. I know what you mean. That's our reward for surviving winter? And you know what? Even if spring was non-existent and summer was hot and sweaty, I would have been okay with that. But that's not enough, is it? You still can't plan a fun day out because now it's also thunderstorm season. This part of the world we chose to live in is uninhabitable.
I thought today was kind of nice...
Besides which, Dustin was probably gay - not that there's anything wrong w/ that. It's just...not workable when you're the crushor and your a girl.
dustin of all people hahaha
ouch! swelling makes yucky blisters, that's bad!
Yeah, we don't see much of Spring down here either... for that matter we don't see Winter all that much as well. 'Bout the only way I know it's winter is all the Canadian license plates.
*Tiptoes into post*
"Spring with it's glorious flowers and birdsong."
it's supposed to be "its"
*runs away quickly*
I'm sorry, please forgive me?
you have way more commenters than I do. Hmph.
But I really like your love note to Dustin... Tara's right, he's just a big ol' homo.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Dear Trish,
I'm just gonna give you lots and lots of rain instead. The flowers don't mind waiting until sweltering weather. That's how I work in New York.
Love, Spring.
How many people read blogs just to correct grammar? Apparently, there are a few out there.
I'm bad at grammar because I spent English class writing love notes to boys. Is that irony? (Also something I missed in high school English.)
No, no, trust me, I don't read blogs just to correct grammar. It's more like that itch which you know you shouldn't scratch but you can't help it when I point these things out.
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