These are not glamorous times. The lingering winter, the ready-to-move-on-with-no-where-to-go, bag after bag of glossy chocolate bits adding bulk to my butt, gallons of tea gulped down in hopes of finding comfort, but instead the gulping brings constant flushing and reminders of the sweater I can't pry off. If only I could sleep 'til spring.
Of course, of course, there is so much good going on all around. So damn much to be grateful for. Forgive me, but I'm too busy scratching and flailing around, scanning the dark corners for blue cotton t-shirts, to see all that goodness and weep with gratitude. I'm definitely having a moment.
But, hang in there, I tell myself. One lunatic-fringe flash will come and voila, that sweater will be dead on the floor. And things can get back to being glamorous.