Monday I decided it was time to get out of the mountains again. I mean, it had been a WHOLE WEEK since I'd gone anywhere . . . antsyness, thy name is Corina. So I drove down to the Valley and did all those little things I can't do here. Like go to Anthropologie, browse used book and antique stores, see a movie in the middle of the day, find cross stitch fabric, eat Vietnamese food, and walk on snow/ice/slush-free sidewalks. The weather in Boise wasn't the spring-time idyll I was hoping for, but for March it wasn't bad. And when I got home yesterday it was RAINING. The temperature hovered in the mid 30's, and it was raining and the air was damp and cold and the wind was creaking in the eves. This is a horrid time of year. I tried going for a walk last week, and between the squelchy mud and slick ice and bitter wind, I lasted 20 minutes and then returned home with dirty hems and a headache.
And . . . I'm sounding awfully negative. I've just always hated the long tease that is the end of winter. And I have to go into the resort spa this aftenoon for more training. And work makes me cranky, because I don't wanna! I want to sit by the fire and find the perfect font for the fist cross stitch project I've done since I was 8 instead of showing people to the steam room and asking if I can get them another glass of water and "your therapist will be with you in just a minute" and "would you like to put a gratuity on the card?" But this afternoon will pay for the new jeans I bought at Anthropologie (they were on sale). And that's good.
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