Spring. High of 89°. All things bloom. Frisbees take to the skies. Nakedness levels steadily elevate. Flip-flops reign. And while I’d love to take it all in firsthand, I’m having a little trouble opening my eyes, because oh no some mean invisible thumbs are rubbing chili powder and salt into them every time I step outside and it’s really itchy and it won’t stop. Here are some things I don’t like about Princeton right now.
O, cruel bloom, what you do to me:
This campus is really frickin’ verdant.
Which is lush and gorgeous and nice, unless you are brutally allergic to oak, maple, a bunch of other trees that don’t immediately spring to mind, cats– oh, and grass.
This last one I (re)discovered the hard way when I joined the throng of catatonic sunbathers in my courtyard yesterday afternoon. I was happily beached out on the lawn, afforded little protection by the thin layer of a vintage ’98 Star Wars beach towel. (What up, Emperor Palpatine– you are wonderful to nuzzle with in the sun but you don’t exactly guard me from the evils of allergens.) And when I woke up I could not tease open those eyelids for a solid ten minutes.
If you spot me, shambling through late meal, bleary-eyed, nearly blind, knuckles kneading the corneas, just know that I’m not on anything but Claritin (and it’s not doing me much good, anyway). Eye drops are only temporary (i.e. 3 second) solace.
So while I’m glad the Jersey skies have finally expanded beyond their seemingly 5-month-long palette of grays and grays and grays, and I’m glad we’ve overcome our collective seasonal affective disorder, and I’m glad flowers exist, some things just aren’t great right now. Even though most things are.
(nature photo credit: Michael Jiang ’13)