OK, it's spring. Where is it? I am so sick of being sedentary, of the hiss of steam in the radiators, of wearing socks to bed to macerate my cracked heels, of snow and cold and gloom. When people talk about loving the change of seasons, it makes me want to hurl. I wish it was summer all the time.
However, you've noted, I'm sure, that the major work of civilization these days gets done in colder climates—just look at California, sliding into ye olde new age. Or take Miami, where "culture" is South Beach and salsa. In the north, we've got to hustle, otherwise there isn't going to be any wood in the woodpile or food in the larder, and we're all going to freeze our asses off. So I wouldn't want to live there, but it sure would be nice to visit the tropics right about now. The Farmer's Almanac says it's supposed to get nice in mid April.
For those of you who can't remember what the heck the vernal equinox is either, click here. I know I'll have forgotten again by next spring.
fair warning: on block island or manhattan or in missouri, we can be a little salty
2 comments:
Oh my God! All this complaining is so not you! What gives? And who is half-Southern, I might add? Put some blistex on your heels and call your travel agent. Cher, you need to warm out. Take it from someone who loves you. XXX000 Bebe
Besides: I invited you to come visit me, where it's at least not cold. But no!!!! You have to go to China! XXX Bebe encore
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