Dear Jesse,

Don't know when it happened, but I walked out of work last night to a warm breeze and the nostalgia-inducing smell of rotting fish.  Ah, Bradford Pear, why are you so pleasing to the eye yet so offensive to the olfactory?  Also, what's with not actually producing pears? 

It's something I didn't realize I was missing in Smithville.  There I knew it was spring when I could observe the wild hook-up on its morning walk of shame, and, due to impending finals, the days became waaaay longer.  

Now?  All I know is whenever I walk out of my apartment I hear Patrick Stewart's voice (from the "The Compleat Four Seasons" album) saying "Shpring!  Shpring hash cohmm and joyfully the buhrds welcome it with cheehful shohng!"  I'm guessing that's just in my head.  Also the aforementioned smelly trees.

I have been terrible about posting, it's true.  Here's the thing....work is always interesting, but like others we know, I've signed legally-binding documents wherein I'm ordered not to talk about it.   It's not that I have any privileged information (Matt usually alerts me when there's a new product) I'm just not allowed to reprazent.  Go figure.  The rest of my life is something akin to rotting on the couch.  I collapsed there after I got out of school and moved several times and I haven't really gotten up since.  I'm fascinated by television again, which is odd because it's quite possibly at an all-time low, but they play a lot of Anthony Bourdain's shows, Alton Brown's Shows, and Gossip Girl.  In addition, I'm determined to not turn this into an "OMG wedding wedding wedding" blog, but that is, unfortunately, the other thing that is taking up a significant portion of my time.  I have a dress, there is a church.  I'm pretty sure I have the groom picked out.  Let's leave it at that.  

It's becoming apparent I'm entering that phase in my life where future posts, unable to post about work, will involve trying to get, or being pregnant, the wonder that is parenthood that you just won't understand until you have your own, and/or what color poop my amazing child produced today.  I can't bear any of those thoughts and am tempted to just call it a day on the blogging thing (and quite possibly the life right along with it).  Maybe it's just the post-college depression talking.  Maybe it's the idea I've already put myself in the position where I'm responsible for someone else's feelings while my own are such a mess.  Maybe it's just that feeling that I'm back in Knoxville, a block from my very first apartment, and the walls are rapidly closing in.  

On the plus side, I'm not in fucking Bruges.

So I'm not posting lately, mostly because I'm afraid if I make a habit of it, my reader will follow me into this pit of despair.  Also because I might have to face that I'm in a pit of despair.  

I'm going back to bed.