I'm back, Reader. I think what I need is a routine. Every evening, 7 pm, post on blog. Something I can stick to. Otherwise I wander away from here and don't return for weeks on end.
It's February now and I don't quite know where the winter went. It seems like just yesterday that I was curling up in bed, pleasantly shivery, but now I already have my rickety fan on as fast as it can go. This is also the month I turn twenty two. Twenty two isn't a particularly significant age, I suppose. I firmly hold that all birthdays after twenty one are simply depressing. I look back on my year and wonder what on earth I've achieved. (I know I should've already done this on New Year's, Reader, but I was too busy partying then) I made a list over the weekend of things to do in the nine days left before I officially turn a year older. It's a rather scandalous list though, so I don't think I'll tell you about it here.
I do love though that my birthday comes in the spring. There's such an air of possibility around. I don't think anyone can be depressed for long in the spring. Why, just today, an adventurous squirrel clambered onto my windowsill and snatched away a hunk of bread almost from my fingers.
I'll spare you the long introspection today Reader, I still have nine days left to complete it. Wish me luck on my list!