Spring

Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes! Mother Nature decided to give me one last round of snow and a nice winter cold to go along with it. So I spent most of my birthday week laying on the couch, eating junk food, cursing the weather and New Jersey, and feeling sorry for myself. Poor me. I'm forty years old. Jesus Christ! I am forty fucking years old!! I have wrinkles and my boobs are sagging. I am watching IFC, motherfucker. That makes my twenty hours of television a day a cultural experience, so leave me alone before I kill you. My life is meaningless. I'm an indentured servant to Sallie Mae. Where's my TV Guide? Boo fucking hoo. Nap time. No more cookies!? Argh!! Life really is meaningless. And I live in New Jersey?!? What was I thinking? Time for another nap. Well, that was the gist of it, more or less. Ridiculous, but I haven't had a good pity party in months. I just didn't have the energy to keep it up into the first day of spring. Being morose is exhausting! I finally dragged my ass off the couch yesterday and decided it was time to get back to being me again. I combed out my getting-to-be-dreadlocked-from-sleeping-on-the-sofa hair and changed it's color from Morticia Adams to Lucille Ball. I felt immediately better when I saw the familiar red strands dripping water down my chest in the shower. Today the snow is melting, and my heart is beating again. I will take a run around my neighborhood, I will wash my dogs and clip their nails, I will play with my children and spend some time in my art studio. It is easy to forget in the fog of self-pity how movement is always my savior. Spring and I will soon become reacquainted, like old lovers. We will weave sunsets from our tangled limbs and whisper stories to each other of long golden summers.