Well, Poetry Month is over and I don't know about what the view is outside of your office window, but here in DC it is cold and gray and wet. Many a May Day celebration is falling to ruin as the crepe paper is sure to sog and tear. There is a chill in the air that is definitely unseasonable and it seems to be affecting people's moods. Everyone around me seems to be having relationship trouble; I can overhear it as they have the "talks" on their cellphones. Roommates, co-workers, strangers on the street...it's a virtual epidemic. You would think that with all the science out there, people could get a sense of what troubles are real and what troubles are just a simple lack of steady sunshine and endorphins. Ah well, who am I to talk? I wouldn't know a hormone from a hatrack, if it came down to me. For now, I will stick to my regime of hot showers after work, comfortable clothes and a nice dense book. I'm reading Joseph Conrad at the moment...Nostromo. Whatever gray weather may hang ominously outside my door, it's nothing compared to life in the silver mines of South America. And until it gets nice and spring finally comes around for good, that's my motto: this is better than a silver mine in South America.
