I was called into a work meeting last week.  A case I am on has apparently blown up.  And by blown up I mean gotten busy.  “Stop what you’re doing,” the partner said.  “We’ve got other work to do.”

I heard someone whisper, “I’m thinking I might have to cancel my February vacation plans.”


I’m not sure what this will mean for my next six weeks.  Or my Monday.  But I have a desire to stockpile clean socks, lettuce heads, and minutes with Manfriend to get me through.  To that end, Manfriend and I spent the weekend visiting family and eating chocolate.

“At least it’s winter,” a co-worker said.  “It was this way last summer.  That was the worst.  At this time of year, we wouldn’t be seeing the sun anyway.  We’ll wake up, and it will be spring.”

Part of me feels ready to go.  Like I’m jumping around in the corner of a boxing ring, ready to come out swinging.  It’s an inapt image.  My roommates just bought a punching bag; we don’t even know how to hold our hands when we punch it.  Worse: I’ve never even put on the gloves.

Let’s hope my working skills are better than my boxing ones.

And spring.  I feel like it’s time we remembered: spring comes.  Isn’t that awesome?

Let’s all dream of that together.

P.S. Happy birthday, lovely sisterfriend.