Basta Primavera

I did very little today, but it's not my fault. It's the fault of the scumbag (and I mean that slur precisely) who blocked me in with his/her car. Today was picnic day in Davis, but I didn't go to it. It's Spring, and that means I no longer go out unless absolutely necessary. One reason is that I dislike beautiful weather. The other reason is that I am allergic to every affirmation of Persephone's return and the circle of life. One of my classmates who studied at Davis as an undergrad says the pollen in the air was so distressing to her here that she used to wear goggles when she rode her bike to class. The mornings are the worst for me. First of all I wake up every day with a Benadryl hangover that doesn't wear off until Nine or Ten. Second, my eyes are so puffy that opening them just doesn't seem worth the effort, especially since being able to see will only confirm that I look like Edward G. Robinson. Here in the Central Valley, Spring is an eat drink and be merry time, because the locals all know their time is short. Summer is coming, and summer in the Central Valley is widely acknowledged to be unendurable. I alone long for the time when the punishing sun scorches all the vegetation in three days flat and leaves the locals too enervated to do anything but bitch about Southern California taking our water.