Ahh, mating season. My cats are humping each other, the weather is warmer, and people are coming out of hibernation to sniff each other's butts in hopes of finding that special snuggle partner.
What is it about the snow melting that makes you want to run around the block in your birthday suit? It's like you've been holed in at home all winter, and you finally poke your head out of the cave to see that the 17 feet of snow is melting and there's actually grass under it.
I don't know what it is, but it sure affects us all. I don't even think I realize it until I get a little taste of that warmness and suddenly the mirage of daisy dukes and BBQs doesn't seem so far away.
Don't get me wrong, I really do love winter. But it just goes on a LITTLE too long out here in NY. Once March hits, I'm ready to stow the sweaters and bear my midriff like a teeny bopper. (Stop freaking out--I'm totally kidding. I save the leopard halter top for summer.) I feel my mood lift with the season change, and suddenly I realize I've been walking around in a daze for the past four months.
We're not quite there yet, Spring, but I'm anxiously awaiting your arrival. This hot and cold bipolar bullshit is for the birds.