.the.day.after.

i've been waiting for this day since the first bags of halloween candy hit the shelves in early october. the first orange-wrapped kisses and fun-sized snickers bars struck up a momentum that would gain frenzy with each approaching holiday. witches and goblins tumbled quickly into turkey's roasted with pumpkin pie, which grew monstrous on black friday and became-- if you can believe it-- increasingly fierce on every shopping day until the 25th of december. it's still not safe to go outside, as the last boom of day-after sales are setting off their tired, fire-crackered finale as i type.

today brings the great relief of carrying boxes of crinkled and torn wrapping paper, wrought with twisted candy-canes and tattered reindeer, out to the recycling bins once and for all. my morning coffee sickens my tongue with nutmeg, the last of the eggnog, and i begin to think already about gym discounts and spring daffodil's. the cableknit scarf on my knitting needles, a project so pertinent as i watched "it's a wonderful life" just yesterday, seems tired and silly as i begin to imagine which bikini will flatter my figure this year.

it's amazing how anticipation trumps present time on every occasion. i know from previous magazine covers and catalogues that once summer is ripe and hot and sweating, i'll be concerned not with lemonade and fresh blackberries, but with the length of this year's pleated skirts, argyle vests, turtleneck sweaters. is it that only from some distance can we appreciate approaching seasons?