Today, as you have surely already heard, is the first day of Spring. Yesterday, around these parts anyway, was the last day of basketball season, as my beloved Tarheels lost to George Mason. I guess there’s some sense of a natural balance there that is assuring, although at that moment when the final buzzer sounded, I wasn’t feeling it. Instead, I was sad. Sure, Spring is great and leads to summer, which I REALLY love, but still….oh, well. There’s always next year, right?
Maybe it’s not just the basketball, though. I’m feeling a little under the weather today, actually have for the last couple of days, although I’ve been in denial about it. I’m one of those people that believes that I can keep sickness at bay—even when all symptoms are screaming otherwise—simply by refusing to acknowledge it. So what if I have a fever, am totally stuffed up AND feel sick to my stomach? I am FINE, I tell you, fine. Or so I kept telling myself, until a few minutes back, when I realized I was too exhausted to even walk to the coffeemaker. Not a good sign. I think it may be time to crawl into bed, haul out a stack of magazines, and admit defeat. I mean, it’s not that often that I have a good reason (a valid one, even!) to do nothing all day. I think I should take advantage.
Or perhaps, I’m not sick at all. Maybe, it’s just the cumulative effects of basketball being over, winter supposedly ending, and the promise of everything that is ahead in the next few weeks. Soon, I will be too busy to rest, even if I am completely wiped out. So now, I think I will curl up with Oprah, and some ginger ale, and take a rare mid-morning nap. Hopefully, when this is all said and done, I’ll emerge energized, excited, and ready. At least, that’s the plan.
Okay, back to bed…..