The clocks will be set ahead this evening and Bridget made it all the way through.
We've reached the point where I leave the curtains open in the evenings until dinner is finished and cleared away, instead of having them drawn before we begin.
I am looking forward to the warm torrential spring rains, the early morning thunderstorms and the unbearable heat. Sleeping on the covers instead of buried beneath them, wearing as little as possible. Living in bare toes and flip-flops from Old Navy, purchased in every color of the rainbow because then I can wear two different ones and people give me a third look.
The oblivion behind a roaring air conditioner.
I look forward to barbecuing entire dinners and not having to wash so many pots, and I look forward to doing my customary awful job cutting the grass and longer walks with the dog where my eyes don't water and Butters isn't limping with frozen pads by the time I reach the driveway.
I'm anxious to wake up to the sheer curtains billowing up in the light overnight wind. I'm excited for ladybugs and butterflies and spending all our cash on hand at the ice cream parlour. I'm excited to see the guys excited for their motorcycle rides and being able to play guitar outdoors.
My patio lights are ready to go up. When that two feet of frozen snow melts.
Camping. I want to go camping. I want to go on some long car trips, trading MP3 players and stopping in unfamiliar places to eat and later be grateful that there were no serial killers at that rest stop, because it looked like a hang-out for them.
I am awaiting the midnight sun.
I am awaiting my own life. On hold but not on hold.
He's gone again. He came home to hold me and now he has to go back. I'm taking the kids to the market this morning and then we'll run some other errands and come home and play Henry's math game and cook spaghetti, have warm baths and hit the hay early.
On a funny note, PJ called to let me know he might be by late if at all tonight. He has a date.
That was possibly the best news I think I have ever heard.