Maybe I don’t like spring as much as I thought I did

I’ve been thinking. I do that a lot, probably more than I need to, but having a basically mindless job allows me a lot of time to think.

So anyhow, I’ve been thinking. I don’t think I like spring as much as I pretend to like it. I’m definitely not a huge fan of summer, it’s way too hot, but I always thought I liked spring, that whole ‘renewal of life’ thing and so on. The thing is, when I looked back over the years at springtimes I’ve already gone through, I learned something – something traumatic and disheartening has happened every spring for the past… oh… four years, at the very least. I didn’t try to remember any farther back than that, so I can’t say for times any earlier… still, it’s odd to consider that, and it might explain my bout with the old depression over the past month or so. Thoughts to ponder…