After yesterday’s sunny and fair 26-mile bike ride — which was the sixth bike ride of the year, and, thus, we should stop counting as the novelty of newness has very much given way to the annual complaint of “Why does it take so long to be able to ride around here?” — today we returned to the grayness and general ‘bleh’ that typifies four or five months of the year.
Which, hey, at least I can look out of windows and see it now?
Also ran in it today. Charming mood-setter, really.
Oh, but to get outside, though. Yes. It was outside. And no, it was not something to be desirous of today. I want to take the positive approach: We are able to do this thing! But the legs and the mind were not onboard with the effort today. So it was slow and sluggish and just something to be endured. Sometimes that’s a positive approach, too: Enduring. But today it was a po-tah-toe, rather than a potato, sort of thing.
This is wholly about the weather, and the reality that the weather is like this in late March, when I am in no mood for such a thing. Give me warmth or give me sun. Ideally, give me both, because we’re into spring everywhere in my various social media streams except for right here. But since I can’t have what I want, give me at least one of them.
Even the geese don’t want anything to do with this stuff.
You might say I’m projecting. I thought you might. When they flew over I asked them. I said, “Hey geese, am I projecting my feelings, in the sense that Sigmund Freud, and later, Karl Abraham, defined the concept, about these lame atmospheric conditions onto you?” Do you know what they said?
Honk.
