It's that time of year again, when my kitchen is invaded by ants, my basement grows RoboSpiders of Fear and Terror, and I am forced outdoors by people who say they like me. It's spring, darnit. Woopty-doo.
I mean, I'm no Communist. I enjoy seeing the trees bloom as much as the next guy, provided that I am in a climate-controlled environment and all God's non-human creatures are not able to reach me. But my mommy pals, they're all like, HEY! Let's go outside! In the sun with the bugs! Let's get some mud on our shoes! I would just think my friends are unstable people, except that various groups of friends in multiple locations around the continent are expressing similar desires. (It is possible that I only make insane friends, and thus my hypothesis is totally jacked.)
Yesterday I went to an arboretum. If that sounds like crazy fun to you, then you people are everywhere. But my buddies were going, and it sounded better than breaking up kindergarten dogpiles and spraying excessive amounts of Febreze around my house to no avail.
I had fun, all right? Because of the people. But it wasn't without cost. I got a sunburn, and I have a laceration on my leg from accidentally kicking myself with my rhinestone flip-flops, and Tristan poured a Coke on his head, which is really sad, but not for the reason you might think.
And it was pretty, I guess, what with the trees and the flowers and whatnot. If I had that for a desktop, now that would be something.