Flowers Are Blooming, and Maybe We Can, Too
Everywhere I go, I see tulips.
In the Midwest, we had a godawful April.
The umbrellas barely had a chance to dry from one rainstorm before the next downpour started. Day after day: wet, cold, miserable.
Half of the people I know (including half of the people in my house) got COVID last month. The few who didn't succumb caught a weekslong upper respiratory infection that dragged on like an Allman Brothers song.
The Easter candy in the house seemed to be multiplying, so I decided to help the kids "finish it off." In unrelated news, I gained 5 pounds.
I also finalized their plans for summer vacation, which, somehow, only managed to make it feel even further off.
"It'll never be warm enough to swim in the pool," I thought, miserably, as I paid for the summer park district passes.
Trips to the gas station started costing $50, and we began regularly dropping $200 at the grocery store.
I used to hate hearing the word "COVID." Now it's "inflation."
Now, I'm not pretending to be some yokel who doesn't understand price increases. I get why things cost more. It makes sense.