Seeing as winter is my favorite season, I’ve been in a… a smug sort of mood recently. The heat is atrocious and world is altogether too sunny, cheery, and optimistic, but I know something they don’t: the days are getting shorter, and in half a year, it will be winter. I’m willing to bet on this.
It will be another full three seasons before I have to endure the chipper enthusiasm of spring, with its optimistic promise of new beginnings and love-stricken young couples snogging all over the place. Blech.
And it will be… oh, this is just delicious to realize… it will be another whole year before I have to suffer the wretched heat and general good will engendered my summer. Granted, I am enduring it right now, but I’m trying to look on the positive side, here.
In only three and half months, it will be October. October is a month I can get behind. Cooler weather, fewer tourists, shorter evenings. I like when it’s dark outside. There’s more risk of zombie attack, yes, and vampires pose a bigger threat when there’s less daylight, but generally speaking I prefer stars to sun. Not that I can really see the stars. Too much glare from the lights in the parking lot. I suppose they’re in place for security reasons, but give me a break: A street lamp is NOT going to deflect the undead. I shall have to write a letter explaining this to the management at my apartment complex.
Not much to write about this evening (though I’m glad I took the opportunity to educate everyone about the cycle of the seasons; I’m sure it was helpful and informative for all concerned). I’m afraid I just don’t have much to say. All my creative energies appear to have been expended, somehow….
Yoga, I can always talk about yoga. Remind me to never again complain about Yoga Instructor Jennifer. I have come to realize that she is not the tyrant I accuse her of being. She is positively tame compared to Yoga Instructor Steve, who spent an hour terrorizing us this evening. He did, however, tell me that I have a propensity for Ashtanga style yoga—he actually said “propensity”—so I forgive him. I’m a sucker for praise. He also complimented my shoulder stand this evening, but I wasn’t able to properly thank him, as I had a face full of cleavage at the time.
I appreciate that many of you enjoy having a face full of cleavage, that in fact some of you may actively seek that sort of circumstance, but I assure you, when the breasts in question are your own, it is not really pleasurable, in the least. It is in fact difficult to breath. I do not recommend it. If you insist on breast-to-face contact, please: use someone else’s.
Um. I still have too many projects going on. That hasn’t changed since last week’s post, but since I already covered that topic in mind-numbing detail, I won’t revisit. I am reading R. Scott Bakker’s Prince of Nothing fantasy trilogy, which I recommend, but which I won’t discuss yet, not till I’ve finished it. But there is nothing else going on that is appropriate for this here blog. I mean, I spent four paragraphs talking about the weather. I think that’s a sign.
I should have more interesting news to relate next weekend, after a Cinco de Mayo party. (We don’t let pesky little details such as dates or months stop us from having a good time around here.) Except I shouldn’t have written that. Now everyone at the party is going to be on good behavior for fear of being written up on the blog. That’s hardly fair. How else am I supposed to get material? Shall I just prance out into the night and hope for a zombie to attack?