Livin' Breezily

I don't have seasonal affective disorder but I swear that that past winter put my head into the dumps.

But how else can you defend against monster snowstorms and day after day of biting cold? You mentally roll up into a ball as winter bats you around like a grizzly. That tactic comes with a price though, doesn't it?

Now winter's gone. I got my confirmation when I saw robins, heard the peeper frogs down by the river chirping and this last night, I saw teen girls walking three abreast up and down Newport Ave. Slowing down in cars beside them were teen boys trying to get their attention. Mating season has begun!

Another confirmation I have, I left the windows open all night. I woke up before dawn with the cacophony of robins singing in the new day. Also, the house is finally blown out, replacing the staleness with real air. The morning sun isn't that blinding light, but more soft as it comes into my kitchen window. I discover new motivation to get things done that early too.

Softer days are ahead. I've put up with 51 winters so far and I find owning 51 Purple Hearts for surviving them is no longer a “character building” experience. Fuck character. Give me softer, easier days instead.

Here's how morning unfolded here. The curtains were wafting to a breeze. Squeeze's “Black Coffee In Bed” was playing and I was barefoot. I was wearing an Indian cotton shirt, unbuttoned all the way and hanging loosely. If I had a porch, I'd be out there too.

These are the first steps to the pinnacle of that best of moods of all, waking up in a seaside house with the sound of the surf thumping the beach. It's that mood you develop after a few days of not caring about a damn thing at all as you have reached beach bum status. Tell me, what the hell is wrong with that?

You know what one of the best feelings I have had? Having my skin slightly stinging from a mild sunburn with fine, dried salt covering it from swimming in the ocean. Add to that the ever present coconut smell of sun block on a pastel peach shirt I love. Beach sand in the bed sheets isn't an annoyance to me at all, it's proof the Good Life is here. I look unproductive with my tousled hair permed by the salty water and knock-off RayBans sloping down on my nose. When I had reached that point, I have “made it.” Living breezily, when you can, is freedom and damned healthy for you.

Being productive is over rated. Being productive is a winter time activity. You won't lie on your deathbed, bemoaning the fact that you didn't work harder, will you?

Spring's here. Open those windows, kick off the shoes and forget that past winter ever happened.