Spring has Sprung

I know, I know, all my two readers in the northern climates are saying right now, "Oh poor poor you, you're about to complain about how it's warm and sunny outside and there are buds on the trees and green grass even though actually the grass has been green all winter, even under that two inches of snow and please I'm still trapped under four feet of snow and very very angry at Punxsutawney Phil and MTV Spring Break programming who just live to taunt me..."

But to you I say, "Good lord, let me get a word in edgewise on my own blog already!"

And then I remind you that spring is like cake. If you've ever worked in an office for more than two months straight, particularly that kind that has lots of floors of lots of people working in cubicles all day who will take any excuse to get away from their desk and eat sugar so that then they can get all antsy in their pantsy and maybe flirt with the receptionist and go home feeling like Mad Men instead of like Cat People, then you know that cake is in the eye of the beholder. If you've been a good little bunny and eaten your brown rice and vegetables and if you're a carnivore, a bit of skinless chicken, and gone for miles and miles of runs and are very proud of your fantastic superiority as both a citizen and a human being, then a little sliver of chocolate cake with some nice butter cream frosting and maybe just a corner of one of those pinkish flowers that you can pretend taste different from the rest of the frosting is like heaven on earth and you thank God for having invented cake and taste buds and your coworkers and everything on earth that brought you to this point where you could have this moment.

On the other hand, if it's just after Christmas and you've been stuffing your face with doughnuts and candy and cookies and everybody's grandmother's recipe for the best whatever that was made this side of where ever for about two months, and then your cubicle neighbor comes by and says "Oh, hey, it's BlahBlah's birthday today, so we picked up an Entenmann's at the Walgreens down the street, come get it before it's gone," then you'll probably be like "Eh..." And even if BlahBlah is your bestest friend in the cubicle maze you'll just have a bite or two out of politeness and you won't even enjoy it.

Spring in Nashville is like the Entenmann's after Christmas. I haven't earned it, I'm not ready for it, and tasty and beautiful as it is promising to be, I'm going to remain a Grinch and complain about having to put away my coats when it hasn't even been six weeks since that damned rodent saw his shadow as he does every year.

Bah humbug.

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http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com