It won't hit fifty degrees here today, I know that. But just hearing it on the Milwaukee weather forecast made me give in to the spring cleaning urge. Indiana Ann's in Florida, the traitor, and can't smack me upside the proverbial head to tell me not to hang the blankets outside on the Twelfth Day of Christmas, otherwise known as January--yes, JANUARY--6th in Wisconsin.
It's like saying, "let's get married on December 1 UP NORTH, darling." Yes, Andy, I mean you.
But it feels good. I let the spring monster come right up to me, look me in the eye, and bow to its will. Like knowing there's been a tornado in every month (but February? Or did that happen last year?) in Wisconsin - far from Kansas.
It's okay. The weekend should be ten degrees warmer. Not normal yet, but closer. We still had a patch of snow near the deck. We caught a deermouse in the laundry room. We're having fish caught through the ice for supper...
Okay...it's clouding up. The strangely Oz urge is going...
But it will smell like spring tonight. Sweet to dream by; soaking up the promise.