Early spring grumps …

Okay, I admit it.  I have a case of early spring grumps.  We’re talking ridiculous, right?  There it was 70+ degrees when I walked out of work yesterday and was I happy?  No.  I was decidedly grumpy.

Okay, it wasn’t terminal grumpiness or its cousin irascibility and certainly hasn’t drifted to chronic grumpiness, at least not yet, although the cat might think differently after getting soaked with the water sprayer this morning after waking me up at 5:00 AM, yet again.  I know, I know, I should love the little kitty and say, how cute as she scratches at the dresser with her paws to say, “wakey, wakey!” … but really, 5:00 AM?

That little discomfort aside I do admit to craving chocolate cake and bags of potato chips: two seriously never, ever eat again foods in my lexicon of things to eat and things not to eat.

Saying it, however, doesn’t mean I have to like it. And while I “get” that in the immortal words of Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, “… the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world,”  aka, my larynx, my esophagus and my stomach, I still want to complain.

And that’s the rub.  The complaint thing.  Sometimes I just want to complain!  You know, the old, “why me?” or a personal favorite around my house, “it’s your fault.”

So, meanwhile, back in the real world, the antidote is, as always, those sixteen hard pounding rounds at Gleason’s Gym where lately, the workout has come to mean that space where I can truly say my two favorite chestnuts:  “its good to hit things” and “work it out on the bag.”

In the scheme of things, my out-of-sorts mein will right itself (say by the end of this post?), but the space for working things out will remain and whether it’s in my own head, on a walk where I pause just long enough to recognize that 70+ degrees in the middle of March is truly great (while forgetting the climate change thing that could get me to spiral backwards again), eating a truly delicious stalk of asparagus (of the fresh spring farmer’s market variety) or pounding on the double-ended bag, life really is a miraculous experience — even when the grumps get you down.