The thing is, you know, that I've been settled here in Seattle--in this apartment--for almost two years. That's longer than I've been settled anywhere, ever. And since the grand cross-country road trip, I haven't gone to hardly any places that I haven't been before.
I think that's what's wrong with me these days. I'm jonesing for an adventure. It's spring time and I want to be going places and doing things and exploding myself all over new terrains. I want to be meeting ugly people with three fingers in towns with less people than my high school. I want to run through your sprinklers and wrestle with your children and glue myself from head to toe with flowers.
I'm not going to pretend that I haven't been giving in to my impulses these days--that I haven't been stumping around the office pretending to be a pirate or winking at strange men or dancing right in your living room.
So if you see me, skipping through dowtown with a giant or a unicorn or the president of France, remember that I have spring fever. And then wave to me, because I will be waving to you.
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