Spring is Here.

Today the temps are in the forties, and it's rainy and altogether nasty. But I officially declare Spring to be here, because it's been several weeks now since it has snowed.

But more importantly...

I got home about 9 last night, wolfed down some dinner, tried and failed to organize prayer, and then... maybe about 9:30... Michael says, "Are you going downstairs now?" Michael and I have a room in the basement, and I hadn't yet made it down there to put my stuff up. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and said, "Yeah."

He said, "I'll go with you."

And he followed me downstairs. It seemed like it was probably significant, but I really didn't get why. Then, as I walk into our bedroom and turn on the lights, I notice something very out-of-place-looking on the bed. Two stuffed animals. No, no. Two slippers. A pair of bunny slippers!

Years ago, my younger sister Mary gave me a pair of Ernie slippers, that have lasted as long as they could, but they're starting to fall apart now (possibly due to their part in my costume of the Diablo Pereza, the sleepy devil. I still have scars on my knees from my stage antics in that character). Anyway, the Ernie slippers need to be retired, and well, it's nearing my birthday.

I got my first birthday present of the year last night, a full month before my birthday. Come birthday and Christmas times, Michael gets giddy and enters consumer society with the single-minded excitement of a kid in pool full of candy. He hates consumerism in general, consumer holidays in specific, but loves getting me presents. A month already he's been randomly asking me things like, "So, how do you feel about gadgets?" and "What's your shoesize?"

It makes me feel guilty to see the joy he gets from getting me stuff, because, well, I hate shopping for him. I mean, Michael's easy to shop for, because all you have to say is, "Michael, what do you want?" and he'll come up with maybe two or three things... but that's actually all he wants. Trying to surprise him with something is near impossible, and trying to figure out what he wants without asking him is like trying to solve the Sphinx's riddle without even knowing what the riddle is. I don't look on shopping for Michael the way that he looks on shopping for me.

But I really ought to start. Let's see... his birthday is coming up in December... as is Christmas... I'll start getting him presents now.

I wonder if he'd like some slightly used Ernie slippers.