Is there a way to stop being shocked with this whole springness of being? The sun just keeps on shining, there is no more rain, and it’s warm enough to wear a t-shirt and carry a cardigan in case of wind!
I spent yesterday hanging about town, reading weather-appropriate books (The Sun Also Rises and To Kill A Mockingbird are not happy-day books or beach-reads, but there is undeniably a lot of sun in there), wandering from one spot in the sun to another, squinting from the direct light, and meeting friends at the university for short meaningless conversations.
A. said we could go buy some clothes, so we went to the nearest thrift store just in time for happy hour. (That’s when the cheap clothes become almost-free clothes, yay.) We got me some trousers and a shirt, and then, as I sat in A.’s lap and cried about being fat (necessary ritual), I couldn’t help but register that we were sitting on actual, real, full-fledged, sittable grass.
On Saturday we are flying to Israel, and it was supposed to be our flight from the steely cold into the sunny heat, but it will be +20 centigrade in Jerusalem on Sunday, and while that’s still a bit warmer than it is here, I think the difference won’t be as striking as it could have been. Cool.