the underwear drawer

high of 71 degrees? what gives?

Today I slept until 10:30am because I could, dammit. It's so gorgeous outside for the firt time since...well, November, I guess (and that's only because we had a mild Fall), that I really feel obligated to leave the apartment, take the dog to the park, do something outdoorsy. Except I'm so tired is all.

Still, New York in the Spring. What could be better? Sometimes I feel like that character in Woody Allen's "Everyone Says I Love You" who can't decide which season in New York she likes the best. Spring in New York is exploding trees (exploding with flowers, I mean, not actual explosives) and suddenly being able to dine al fresco. Summer in New York is all festivals and music and being able to wait outdoors for your friends at the start of a late night out. (Or else it used to be, before I started working this damn job.) Fall is crisp and sunny and hot cider at the farmer's market, with the promise of Halloween and Thanksgiving adding excitement to everything. And the Christmas season in New York I've already waxed rhapsodic about. I guess the only micro-season that I don't really like is January through March, and really, who does like that time of year? Things don't really pick up after Christmas until Daylight Savings anyway.

Working on a new strip in between finishing "Doctor Id," entitled "The 12 Types of Medical Students." It actually shouldn't take very long to finish, since it's only going to be two pages long. I've already pencilled half of it.

Currently reading: Coleen's entry about Christos. Good article in the New Yorker a couple of weeks ago about The Gates. At least that's one thing that'll make up for the grey cold crappiness next February.