Evil Spring

I hate spring. I say this ever year, but I HATE spring. For numerous reasons. These reasons include:

- Allergies. If you see a tomato walking down the street with puffy eyes and exceedinly long legs, it isn't a tomato. It's me. Suffering from the sneezing-50-times-a-day-swollen-face-itchy-throat allergies that accompany the waking of our trees. I love our trees, and I will gladly suffer so that they can bloom and grow... but good golly. Let's get the blooming stage over with already.

- My annual spring time over-shooting. Something about the world waking up and starting anew makes me want to make enormously huge life changes 100% of the time. Paint the walls a random color? Please. Move into a tiny house and hit the road? Absolutely. Consider going blonde? Not yet, but I'll keep you apprised if that notion makes its way into my head.

- My restlessness reaches its peak just after winter passes. I find myself wanting to run away to magical places, leaving responsibilities behind (except the puppy. The puppy has to come with me). Vacations don't really quell this overarching feeling, so I'm still looking for a solution. Previous solutions have included cutting blunt bangs and the decision that I should try gardening as a hobby. I am moderately cute with blunt bangs, but all of my petunias died, so... still searching.

- The weather. I both love this, and hate it. We have had two nights of random, gorgeous, delightful storms that have danced through the sky on their way to wherever they are heading. I love those. What I don't so much love are the storms that will come later, the kind that come with a side of sirens and the constant need to be within twenty feet of our storm shelter, because I'm just not brave when it comes to swirling vortexes of death.


I'm going to try to make nice with spring, I really really am. Because spring is an inescapable part of life. Kind of like the taxes that ALSO arrive in spring.