Just prisoners here, of our own device

Ahhh. The sky is clear and blue, the sun is shining brilliantly, the chill in the air is not of drafty winter but of breezy springtime. Somehow, despite the temperature being exactly the same as it was last month, a light jacket suffices today instead of layered sweaters and fleece and windstop nylon.

The sweetgum trees dividing Columbus Ave have just finally dropped the last of their fading crimson leaves, and already the twigs are bursting with little chartreuse glints, a sort of reverse origami unfolding into familiar star shapes. The puzzle-barked sycamores are also burgeoning with fuzzy fits of celadon on their extremities. And best of all, the cherry trees are in full bloom, filling the air with an amazing sweet smell and a confetti of pink petals.

It's February, people, and I must admit that I can barely remember the purpose or timing of Groundhog Day anymore when surrounded by things springing all around. I'm wearing shorts and filling my lungs with allergens and reaffirming my love for California.

I'm also going in to the office on a Saturday to do 5 hours of user testing on new ticket-tracking software. Which is somewhat less inspiring.
Poop.