The sky looks fake tonight, like someone painted delicate little puffs onto a pale blue surface. It finally warmed up out there, and of course I have to be inside right now to get things done.
Things. The all-important, unspecified things.
I've accepted this, because I can see the light green spring leaves waving against the sky, and because it's supposed to be beautiful and warm every day this week, and even more beautiful and warm on the weekend.
In April it feels like summer will never come, but of course I simultaneously feel like it's already come, because I'm here, in Gone West, and everything is new and lovely.
I talked to someone today who anticipated, when I said that I'd been so excited about moving back to Gone West: "Oh. I was expecting you to say that it wasn't as good as you remembered."