11 Months Make a Year

The perfect weather last week proved to be Spring’s latest tease. It was enough to entice the budding trees to blossom only to have Spring jump out from behind a bush screaming, “Ha! Ha! Just kidding!” The past few days the trees have provided the only color relief to all the gray and precipitation in all its liquid forms. I suppose I should be grateful that we did not have any solid precipitation, as that would have been too much.

My classmates have returned from Spring Break with tans and tales of prowess – real and imagined – of keg and bed. As they brag, I contemplate whether I will ever be able to eat any cured meat after two semesters of anatomy lab. I think I am going to miss prosciutto.

This is also the time of year when business picks up at the free clinic. I am pretty cynical. I have pretty much seen and heard it all. Yet, I am still surprised by the failure of the human brain to “get it”. When you go to get treatment for VD, remember why you are there and think about it. The same person who just gave you a shot of antibiotic the consistency of yogurt with a syringe with a needle the size of a garden hose is probably not interested in dating you.

In an attempt to keep me sane, the universe has rescinded my order of a personal event horizon. This past week the singularity gave up the skein for a second sock, three sets of knitting needles, a tape measure, and the part of my brain that keeps the sarcasm in check. In exchange, the black hole demanded my iPod sync cable, the entire month of March, my bite guard, and Billy Gillespie’s career.

I would not complain were it not for the fact I really like the month of March – St Patrick’s Day and all. I also need a year that has 12 months instead of 11. It is had enough getting everything done in 12 months. Taking one away is the utmost in cruelty, particularly since I have a very special project on the needles and I needed the month of March to get it finished. I must learn to live with disappointment. Sometimes it just takes more wine.