And here I interrupt. Got less than 36 hours before this long season is ended, and I don't feel well-seasoned at all for the next. There's the adrenaline-junkie side my most recent shrink saw, and then there's the antiquarian sensibility one of my school advisors saw; it's an odd kind of conflict. As often as I wanted to escape the fences patient care put around me, I will miss this house, this place, the routines Val and I made up - song and dance and patter - to give life a shape. I think we succeeded pretty well, certainly enough that when she left it, she wasn't leaving chaos.
For me, if it wasn't still unseasonably gloomy and damp out, I'd be dazzled by the light. I am dazzled, in fact, and for the time being must put up with it. It's Spring again, after all - just a little late this year.