I Hate Spring

Everyone seems to adore this time of year. Birds are chirping, flowers blooming, and change is in the air. It's a time of rebirth, new beginnings, organization. People are skipping about in flip flops and tank tops giddy that spring has sprung. I'm over here with my heat still on and a box of tissues. It's 60 degrees and windy as hell, people. Calm down.

Spring makes me grumpy. I feel like a hibernating bear that's been yanked out of it's cozy den and splashed with a bucket of ice water. All of a sudden, I'm aware that I must schedule pest control, carpet cleaning and lawn maintenance. The cars, the windows, the deck, the entire house needs washing. The garage is an unorganized embarrassment of sports equipment and shoes and leaves from last fall. It all gets blown about every time the garage door goes up.

Just yesterday I felt okay about myself, but today I need a new wardrobe, a pedicure, a spray tan and to lose a few pounds. I've got itchy eyes, a runny nose, a dirty house and my shorts from last summer are too tight. I just want to crawl back in bed. 

Spring makes me feel exposed, raw, unready. I hate it. Pass the Claritin, please, and close that garage door.