For the love of spring.

It was one of those March days
when the sun shines hot
and the wind blows cold:
when it is summer in the light,
and winter in the shade.
-Charles Dickens

I woke up today and was incurably happy. I was happy even before I stepped out my door and discovered spring. That was merely an added bonus.

The knowledge of the days that had just passed was enough for me. The weekend passed in fits of giggles (although my laugh is much less like a giggle and more like a hearty blast), sleeping in, and dancing. Three of my life's pure enjoyments: laughing, sleeping, dancing.

In fact the only thing that was horribly wrong was that l'appartement was a hopeless, hopeless wreck of papers, books, ten laptops (which is a mystery because there are only six of us), dishes, sewing scraps, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Other than that annoyance, my weekend was magical and was thus spent:

• discussing Shakespeare
• unearthing traumatizing childhood moments
  
• frightening people with my raucous "yeehaw"
• doing my roommates' hair
  
• not doing my own
• dancing, dancing, dancing all night long
• forgetting to attend meetings
• making pancakes
• discovering that the recipes for "brown sugar bacon fed bacon" and plum syrup can be found by reading Canto 3 of Beowulf backwards
• a mishmash of various non-school-related activities
  

And thus today was a glorious day. And it was spring.


"It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!" -Mark Twain