I am suffering from a severe case of Twitchy Midwinter Blues.

I open my bedroom window in the morning and stick my hand out. Good morning, neighbors, isn't it a lovely day? The window ritual is less a greeting to my neighbors (most of whom are snug in their beds at the hour of the morning that I get up) and more of a what the hell is the weather like outside this morning?

See, I get up when it's still dark. It's impossible to see what the weather is doing! I could wait through 20 minutes of NPR droning about things i'm not interested in, like the war and what Enron has stuck up its ass this time and listen to the weather report, or I could just stick my hand outside the window. I have an oh-so-scientific method of determining what the weather is like: how many layers I wear depends on how many seconds I can keep my hand outside the window before yelping, pulling my hand back in, and slamming the window shut. If it's wet, my hand will tell me that, too.

And right now I'm wistful, because I really want spring to be here. I want to stick my hand out the window in the morning and then pause, open the window wider, lean out and take a big deep breath of morning air.

There are signs, of course. The bluebells are poking up out of the ground. There have been reports of daffodils. And I drove for all of ten minutes with my window rolled down the other day.

The most sublime time of year is the spring, when I can throw all my windows open and go for walks without having to calculate how many clothes I need to wear. When it's not hot yet, but it's warm, and everything is unfolding and the sun is shining except for when it rains, and even the rain is a little bit warm.

And right now, I am living for spring. It didn't get too bad until a few days ago, when I realized I was tired of winter. Tired of wind, tired of cold, tired of grey skies, tired of cold rain. Tired of the damned short days. Tired of the indoors.

I feel like a little kid waiting for Christmas, only it's the rest of the world that's dawdling waiting to open its present. I know there's nothing I can do to affect the flow of time, but I want to make the world spin faster, make everything go by quicker, and then slow the world down for spring so that those glorious first days can last forever.

So I feel like I'm twitching and stuttering, dancing from foot to foot. It feels to me like spring will never come, we'll always be living under a lead-colored sky. It feels like eternity, like being tied to the ground by the weather and flattened by the wind.

I am so impatient.

We should see a significant improvement in the weather by March and be in full-blown spring by April.

Soon. Soon. Soon.

I become a very boring person when I spend all my time at work.

I haven't done much of anything interesting outside of work for the past month--I haven't written much of anything for three weeks, haven't really seen much of anyone for a while except Chris, and what I've been doing with my spare time recetly is obsessively playing Black & White. I haven't had much of any interesting adventures.

Oh, i've been planning adventures, though! I'm taking a couple of days off of work in a few weeks and going to Victoria. I have a suite at a hotel reserved, and I'm going to spend about three and a half days up there taking pictures, writing in my sketchbook, and basically doing anything but thinking about work. A major shopping run to Lush is also in the works. This is the time of year to go to Victoria, if you don't desperately need to see roses; hotels are super inexpensive during the winter, and it's not really crowded at all. I'm ostensibly going up there to do research for something I want to write, and i hope to have a very rough outline done by the time I leave the city.

I am thinking about things, projects I want to do, writing I want to complete. There are tech things I've neglected.

I do love my job, but I don't like it when it overruns my life. I am so much more than what I do for a living.

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