My sunny disposition has deserted me. It is an ugly, cold, damp, grey day. Gracie woke me up early when she barked at some outside noises. The house was still cold, and I was still tired, but I dragged myself out of bed and went downstairs and opened the door to check. If I had been a throwaway character in a horror movie, the slasher would have been outside the door just waiting for me. If I were watching the movie, I’ll think how stupid not to check before opening the door and I’d think the character got what she deserved. Luckily no one was there, but my newspapers were on the front step so someone had been there. It must have been my neighbor. I doubt the slasher would have been so thoughtful.
My dance card is total empty so I am going to hang around the house all day. I doubt I’ll even get dressed. I’ll probably nap as it’s the sort of day which invites getting warm and cozy in bed under the covers. I’ll bring my book.
March is when I am tired of winter. The first day of spring is in March. We turn our clocks ahead the second Sunday in March. Easter is at the end of March. Spring training is over. It’s time to put away the shovels and the heavy coats. I want to see the bright yellow of the forsythias. I want to sit on the deck and be warmed by the sun. I wish the coming of March was the signal that winter has finally packed its bags and moved south, but Mother Nature guarantees nothing.
I thumbed through a couple of travel magazines and salivated over the pictures. It was like I was a kid again reading my geography book and dreaming. My Barrett Syndrome has surfaced. I hope I can hang on until the trip back to Ghana in the fall.
