16 April 2013

shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Well now, lovey, if I were to do that, I would have to say that you

completely destroy my attention span

[Not pictured: Facebook, NPR, tumblr, gmail, and who knows what else is open in my internet tabs]

inspire me to excavate my Impractical Shoes
[Just lookit those sun-starved toes. Oh my.]

remind me to steal from my neighbors
[Just kidding; these were out on the curb already, twisted down in what I think was an old picture frame. But summer always ends up being time for building things, and I never have enough hooks.]

do expansive things to my taste in music

[I listen to a lot more rap in the summertime, for some reason. This is Dumbfoundead (DFD), and he's pretty great.]

and did I mention Completely Destroy My Attention Span?

[I set out to make...something...that I eventually came back and realized was tuna salad. This after my poor eggs had been boiled half to death in my absence. Sorry, eggs. Sunshine was happening. I may have taken an inadvertent nap.]

Today, I have a day off from work of every kind, except that which I set myself, which is the usual never-ending to-do list of work-hunting, finances-managing, food-making, bill-paying, plan-laying, calendar-panicking, career-tools-researching, goal-setting, call-making, appointment-scheduling, life-detangling fantastic dull engrossing confusing basic routine that it always is. Only now I have the weather to distract me -and more than just the weather, that ever so subtly teasing lift in the air, warm and chilly by turns, that says change is happening.

I have always been a nosy, too-easily-distracted sort of person. Even now, no matter how tired I am, if I think there's something going on in my house that I might be missing, something interesting, I've been known to get up out of a sound sleep and go peek around my door at it. (Conveniently, I now live in an apartment with rather thin walls, so half the time I don't even need to bother with that; a few minutes and some deductive reasoning will tell me what I need to know.) If my neighbors are having a party, I want to know what for. If there's a child crying in the grocery store, I'm personally interested in what's going on. And if you get a call or a text in my presence, I'll be perishing with curiosity about who from and why, although I'm grown-up and polite enough these days that I will, of course, in most cases, pretend I'm not.

The turning of the seasons makes me want to go out and poke my nose down among the crocuses, crane my neck over the sky's shoulder, squeeze in ever-so-sneakily between spring and summer and go, "Oh hey. Hey guys. So...what'cha doin'?"

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