I really should have worn a hat on the walk to work today. I’m unfortunately not quite sure where my gray fleece hat is; it seems to have gotten lost in the moving shuffle.
Because the Frozen North looked April straight in the eye and laughed today. Laughed, I tell you. Downright chortled. Spring, ha! There’s a dance in winter yet.
Fortunately, the dancer was not me, despite the presence of several iced-over stretches of sidewalk on my way. (People in my neighborhood seem to let their washers and/or sump pumps vent into their front yards or driveways. Seems like a waste of good greywater to me, but maybe I’m a leetle biased on account of my mother the compulsive gardener. I will seriously have to watch out for this in winter, though. I’m paranoid about hurting my knee again—so much so that I’ve started to avoid stairs.)
A loon on the bay was laughing too—first time I’ve actually heard one of them. Poor sod, he was probably wondering why he’d gone to all the trouble to migrate back here. I bet it’s right nice off the coast of Georgia today.
Anyway, I did make it in alive, in my stylin’ heavy sweater and denim skirt over long underwear (when I said that nobody anywhere dresses the way I do? not so much with the kidding, truly) despite a face that felt as though it had been shot full of novocaine. It didn’t. Feel, that is. At all.
Yeah, so I’m home. And home is what I remember. It’s all good—at least when I’m properly dressed for it.
