When I was a kid, my favorite season was, logically enough, summer. No school, my birthday, even laxer rules about bathing - what's not to love?
But as I grew up into the awareness that sweating constantly is my least favorite thing in the world, that love shifted to the in-betweasons. I.e. early spring and just-crisp-outside-autumn, the two times of the year where you can wear a kick-ass outfit, topped with a jacket that DOESN'T gain 20 pounds for you, and still be comfortable.
So it seems a cruel, cruel joke to have my days off fall on the days, this sorta-spring at least, that are winter-throwbacks. It seems much, much crueler yet that my days "on" have always been the sunny, cloudless perfection that tricks those of us living in Boston into staying for another year.
It's bad enough to miss the 2 seconds of indisputable loveliness Boston has to offer, but to miss it for WORK? Salt, meet wound.
This is why grown-ups are always so grumpy. This and the slow protestation of their digestive tract against any and all tasty food.
-Posted by Jilly
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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