Cursed Spring

I admit it, I have a very conflicting relationship with spring: I still haven’t figured out if I love it or hate it.

The hours of light begin to increase, the air smells good and nature flourishes, spreading light and color to everything around it. Wonderful I would say!

Then in the morning, the chirping of birds replaces the sound of the alarm clock, and opening the window, the first shy ray of sun enters to illuminate the pillow.

Everything seems to entice you to a new beginning, a pleasant awakening, an unexpected flowering. New energies are in turmoil to better experience the change.

Still, I’m dead tired!

It seems to me that I have been pricked by the spindle of a spinning wheel and condemned to fall asleep in all ways, places, and lakes. So goes a well-known song and I believe that the text was a bit propitiatory, as well as adaptable to multiple contexts, for example in my semi-vegetative state it fits perfectly.

So it happens that when I wake up, spring has already passed and I am on the threshold of summer. That with the long sleep I have at least regenerated myself?

Nope! I look like a zombie with bad intentions.

«Is it possible that these little birds should wake me up at 5:30 am?! And what happened to Prince Charming?»

“Etchoo!” I’m here, I have allergies, and I couldn’t kiss you.

Here it seemed to you, so much in a hurry there was… cursed spring.