You know you’re in for it when it’s only 9:25 and you STILL feel like you’re running so far behind you’ll never catch up. Honestly.
The good news, though: spring is coming. I can feel it, as well as see it, right outside my window, where my daffodils are pushing themselves up, and all the trees are budding and just a moment ago, in a very Disney-like fashion, I heard little birds chirping merrily. The days are getting longer, the fields near my house greener. This has been a gimme of a winter around these parts, hardly any snow, and I am still worried to write it off, as it has been known to blizzard unexpectedly here in mid-March, just when you’re almost positive you can pull out your flipflops. But still. It is close.
I am so ready for spring. I am sick of every single pair of jeans and sweater I own, sick of my jackets, sick of dry skin and having to blast the heat in my car. I know some people love the winter the way I love summer, i.e. exclusively and without end, but I just don’t UNDERSTAND it. How can you not love summer, with its long warm nights and smell of cut grass and tank tops and ice cold tea on the back deck? Sure, in the winter there are fires in the fireplace, and fuzzy sweaters, and brisk air, but none of those even come CLOSE to a outdoor cocktail party in a summer dress and sandals, a cool deviled egg balanced in a napkin in your hand.
Oh, man. Am I yearning or WHAT? Just for that, it probably will snow tomorrow. Just for spite.
Finally, tonight in the finale of Project Runway, my new favorite show ever. Who do I want to win? It’s hard to say, but either Chloe or Daniel. I know Chloe isn’t as dynamic personally as Daniel or Santino, but who says artists have to be flamboyant? Isn’t it the spririt of your work that counts, more so than your own? (I hope this is true, in my own case.) Whoever wins, when this season ends, I’m getting the last one on DVD, even though I know who won. I still want to see it, from the beginning. And if I stretch it out over the summer, maybe it’ll tide me over until next year. I sure will miss Tim Gunn (make it work! what happened to Andrae? designers, gather around!) though. At least I’ll have summer, though.