Oh, spring. How you completely cut off my airways and manage top clog my nose in new ways every year. I love you so.

Not for the nose-clogging of course, though it is beginning to grow on me. The sheer nostalgic pleasure that the beginning of any season brings me is enough to make the allergies worth it, but something about spring in particular just really makes me, well, happy.

If I was a talented song-writer, and decided to express these emotions via song instead of a short blog-post, I’d probably be George Harrison. Since I’m not (which was a rather shocking realization), this blog post is going to have to do.

(Do what exactly? What is this blog post going to have to do? I honestly don’t know. Is it plotting against me? I know you can hear me, blog post! I’m on to you and your sick tricks!)

Ahem.

So anyway, I went on a walk today. During the walk, I did some walking. While walking on the walk that I was doing some walking on, I happened to take notice of two rather interesting things. One being that it was an absolutely magnificent day, and the other being the miraculous fact that this absolutely magnificent day hadn’t decided to cut off my airways like the much meaner yesterday had. I only hope tomorrow will be as kind as the sainted today.

Once home from the walk (that I did some walking on) I immediately closed off every source of outside light in the house. I turned off the inside sources too, because the bright lamps were really killing the mood. Then I hid in my basement and wrote this post.

So the question. Why? Why separate yourself from what you just spent 5(ish) paragraphs saying you loved.

Well, the truth is, tomorrow is going to be both very cruel and also much nicer than today. Because today isn’t a saint. Today is the worst kind of day to have ever… day-ed. Today is a trap.

Spring is trying to trip me up, forcing me to love it through my entire life while simultaneously feeding off my spiritual nose energy. It’s abusive. It’s sick. And I’ve had enough of it! No more will I let spring manipulate me like some sort of, uh, manipulated person!

As such, I won’t be waking up until next Christmas. I’d like a pony and the ability to remember what I’m writing while I’m writing it. Actually, any writing skills at all would be lovely.

But the pony comes first.

(That’s the punchline, right? Stop trying to trip me up, blog post. Or is it spring? Are you two monsters on the same side? Come and fight me, end this madness! I shall have justice!)