If you've been reading my blog through a few season changes, you're probably sick of hearing about what it does to me. Fortunately, I rarely let that stop me from talking.
So here we are, in the middle of a heat wave - relatively speaking. The snow is melting away, leaving puddles and mud everywhere. I bought some rain boots, so now I can fully relish the puddles. I've always wanted rain boots for just such a purpose, and they do not disappoint.
Even while I'm inside, my spirit is outside. My computer is in the sunroom, and this is a problem. Right now, I'm typing while staring out the open window. I have learned to proofread as a result of this situation. Also, I get distracted by the cool breeze, and before I know it, I'm reclined in the office chair and haven't written or entertained a coherent thought in five minutes.
There is no cure for what ails me. I must push through to the other side. When I no longer want to just lie around in the sunshine, talking to strangers and friends, drinking coffee and waxing philosophical about the simplest things. That is the greatest symptom of my disease. Nothing is simple. Everything is a broad, general, debatable idea that I want to talk about and hold up to the light of the sun until I get bored with it. Not until I find an answer, mind you, because what, after all, is an answer? Poor Erick. Things take much longer than they should at this time of the year. The only hope is that this is the last time this happens until the fall. Because once I push through, I am myself again - still doing all the things I just mentioned, but in a less ethereal state.
However, a problem occurs when I get forced back inside by another cold snap, and the process must begin all over when the sun returns to warm the ground. It's a vicious cycle really.
Wish Erick luck.