Ravening Hunger - The moment it’s jumper-not-coat weather, our jeans sigh with relief in anticipation of ‘salad mode’, rather than just-ate-the-fridge mode. We shake off the cheese and it becomes all about seeds and raw kale and emergency flossing. Except. Just the vaguest hint of a cold front moving in and our hibernation muscle memory rears up, then… BOOM. We are all ‘bring me the pasta and the steak and the cheese now, please’.
Insomnia - Our auto-response is always set to tired. ‘How are you?’ Tired. ‘How’s it going?’ Tired. ‘Did you enjoy last night?’ Tired. ‘Do you want to have sex?’ If you must but... tired. As we segue into spring there’s just too much light, too much heat, not enough heat, not enough duvet, where is the spring duvet? Do we have a spring duvet? With so many extreme temperature levels and fierce beams of light, we are basically living in a particle accelerator. Hello Hadron Collider. Goodbye sleep.
Fat fingers - Swollen. Paw-like. Pink. Ruddy. Must be the tropical heat (19 degrees). Will rings need to be cut off? Will fingers need to be cut off? Obsessed with them: fat little sausages on the steering wheel, lifting up the kettle, pouring the wine. Decide a neon manicure will cheerfully herald the arrival of spring and flatter the hands. It doesn’t.
Dust - Windows are open, dust comes in. Windows are shut, dust is trapped. Sometimes you can see the particles dancing. Are they dust in our lungs now, turning and twisting like a grit particle in an oyster? Except it’s not a pearl we are going to get but a tumour. We are dying of dust. And dusting. We are dustgusted. Dustophobic. Dustressed.
Not going out - You know you are a grown-up when the elements provide socially acceptable excuses not to go out. ‘It’s too hot, it’s too cold. My chest. My sinuses. So I am not going to go big, I am going to go home. I am not even going to go medium, I am just going to go home. Actually, it’s easier for everyone if I don’t leave home in the first place.’ And we all just nod in unison and head off to wrestle ourselves out of our bras and on to our slightly crisp-crumbed sofas. There, that’s better… *wonders briefly if that is in fact better*
Memory loss - We can’t remember why we wrote ‘memory loss’ down. Blame the weather.
Wardrobe meltdowns - It is safer to stay in a towel for the rest of March, and all of April. Preferably sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. Nothing else is going to work.
Wi-fi not working- Is this where we admit we don’t understand Wi-Fi? Is it like water in a pipe? As in, does it freeze when it’s cold? Or like door frames? Does it swell when it’s warm and damp? Best to turn it off and on again, and have a nap while it sorts itself out.
Itchiness - Suddenly the sun comes out and we think, nd wonder if we could ever be a person who w‘Pollen!’ Our throats begin to get scratchy. And then, when we are strolling to the shops half-naked (no tights), we think ‘Pollution!’ aore a medical mask on the street. Maybe we could wear one while riding our bike. That would be ok. That wouldn’t look too mad. We’d look like one of those deranged couriers weaving through the traffic. Except we don’t have a bike. Pollen. Itch. Panic. Damn you, spring.
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