Things were getting all pleasant and sunny and springy and un-seasonally-affected and I should have known it was just another one of Mother Nature’s cruel and inhumane jokes because the last week has been dark and stormy and rainy and sleety and there has been SNOW for pete’s sake. Mother Nature is one coldhearted b*tch.
But to be totally honest, it isn’t bothering me quite as much as I think it normally would, because I’m kind of pretending it’s the fall I didn’t get. That’s right, I did not get to experience a fall—my very favorite season—and I am kind of sulking about it. Here’s the deal: I was hugely pregnant at the start of the fall, which doesn’t make for a very enjoyable season. Then I had a newborn through the rest of the fall, which also doesn’t make for a very enjoyable season. Fall and winter passed in a foggy sleep-deprived zombie-esque haze, and the last thing I can really remember clearly is being only sort of hugely pregnant in the high heat of summer and now all of a sudden it’s almost spring and I have a 5 month old baby and I can barely even recall anything in between. I’m not entirely convinced that this past fall and winter actually did, in fact, occur at all.
So don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here dressing like it’s autumn in plaid and vests and boots, baking pumpkin treats and cinnamon rolls, maybe carving a pumpkin or two. Someone just send me a tweet or something to inform me when spring does really and truly arrive, and I guess I’ll get there eventually.