"A little Madness in the Spring/Is wholesome even for the King."
I tend to be quite irritable during the spring... Allergy medication hardly agrees with me, and I was never much fond of the rain. It was awful two years ago when I was in London. The rain did not stop for a moment. Actually I was in Seattle for most of the spring last year and I don't recall seeing the sun once.
Still, so far the season's been sunny, and I've found myself to be in a rare good mood most of the time. Not quite sure what's to blame for it. Perhaps the fact that for once in a great long while I'm experiencing the weather of my hometown. Maybe it's that I get to spend the spring with my dog, who's been boarded for quite a long time at a kennel. It's also possible that things are for once wending towards right in my life. Whatever the reason, I get the feeling that this is going to be a good spring, perhaps the best spring in recent memory.
Of course, the last time I felt this bulletproof, someone came along and burst my bubble. Let's hope everyone keeps their pointer fingers to themselves this time around, given that I'm not doing anything wrong. Even the people I'm doubtless baiting to come ruin my mood mean nothing to me. That's refreshing. Perhaps I'm too cryptic. I think I'll finish this glass of port and go to bed.
Oh, this entry's title is a snippet of Emily Dickinson for those of you playing at home.
Still, so far the season's been sunny, and I've found myself to be in a rare good mood most of the time. Not quite sure what's to blame for it. Perhaps the fact that for once in a great long while I'm experiencing the weather of my hometown. Maybe it's that I get to spend the spring with my dog, who's been boarded for quite a long time at a kennel. It's also possible that things are for once wending towards right in my life. Whatever the reason, I get the feeling that this is going to be a good spring, perhaps the best spring in recent memory.
Of course, the last time I felt this bulletproof, someone came along and burst my bubble. Let's hope everyone keeps their pointer fingers to themselves this time around, given that I'm not doing anything wrong. Even the people I'm doubtless baiting to come ruin my mood mean nothing to me. That's refreshing. Perhaps I'm too cryptic. I think I'll finish this glass of port and go to bed.
Oh, this entry's title is a snippet of Emily Dickinson for those of you playing at home.