Every year, on the first warm day of spring, I do something bold – something that goes against my very nature.
I go outside.
Birds screech in disbelief. Passing motorists crash into trees, temporarily blinded by the sunlight reflecting off my bare skin. And I find a sunny spot on the grass, spreading my
NeatSheet on the verdant floor.
A minute later, ants begin crawling on my blanket. A minute after that, my back starts to get painfully itchy. (Oh, right – I’m highly allergic to grass.) I slowly realize it isn’t actually as warm outside as I thought. (I guess the high temperature of the day doesn’t usually occur at 5 pm, does it?) But I rub my arms for warmth, surreptitiously scratch my back, and brush the ants away with my book.
Ah, yes – the book. By now I’ve remembered that my contacts make my eyes so photosensitive that I can’t keep them open wide enough to read. Just as I begin to ponder solutions to this problem, I involuntarily shudder as a gargantuan ant scurries across my thigh. Oh god! Were ants always this big? As he scampers back to the grass, I swear I hear him laugh at me.
Suddenly the breeze picks up, and I shudder again. I also become cognizant of a pulsating swarm of miniature flies that definitely wasn’t surrounding me when I sat down. One zooms up my nose, causing me to jump to my feet before I even know I’m reacting.
I gather my blanket, throw on my shoes, grab my book, and dash back inside. Once in the apartment, I see that only three minutes have passed since I left.
I slather myself in sunless tanning lotion and call it a day.
