Spring

This weekend experience very odd mixture of ocurrences, namely: 3 mosquito bites (or spider, but do not wish to think about any other possibility), snow flurries, and the onset of spring allergies. This morning bites less itchy, sun is out, and have become sufficiently used to weepy eyes, scratchy throat and clogged nose that feel almost excited about going out into the world and (less happily) on to work. Peek at mirror before leaving deflates previous high spirits and feel that one would be best served to be like friend the leg model who doesn't have any mirrors in her house, not even in the bathroom. (Admirable position does lead to one Question: how would one manage to shave one's face? This naturally not a problem for the leg model...) Philosophical thoughts about mirrors carry self down elevator and outside and then are replaced by long train of thought involving renovation of facade of church cater corner from apartment building. Workers are very high up on turret using saws that produce a prodigious number of sparks, noise and a burning smell. Take care not to pass under scaffolding and tell self for the millionth time that should thank lucky stars for how lucky I am, job-wise. Gratefulness barely lasts until five minutes after arrival at work. Oliver comes into my office, frantic for once and become worried that somebody has died, but no, he has only sent the wrong letter to the duplicating department to be printed. All 3,000 copies have already been sent out, what are we going to do?! he asks. You must hate me. Do you hate me? Through tiresomely gritted teeth, tell him that do not hate him at all, we will find a solution. And we do find a solution--too tedious to put down here (even).