Oh my. The past few hours that I have been awake have been miraculously anxiety-free. What is this kind of life? Free of worries, and absent any tears (thus far), and full of things that interest me on a nonprofessional level: music, books, after work drinks, nail polish the color of Easter eggs? And why do I only live it approximately 9 weeks out of the year? Questions for me to become anxious over later.
For now: bliss, sweet bliss. I slept in all the way to eight o'clock (this is how I know I am now officially old), made waffles, read some of Poser, and have been listening to Beach House and old Fiona. Kevin is playing video games. Earlier, he asked what our plan was for the day. We both turned to each other, grinning like children, and said, "Nothing!" We needed this.
Even if you are not on spring break, you still get a special gift this weekend: new Dirty Projectors. Glory of glories. And they're all just as purrdy as ever.
And an old favorite, just because I like you.
I've only seen Dirty Projectors live once, on a perfect summer day in Millennium Park a few years ago. I went with a boy, handsome as a Disney Prince, that made me feel like a Taylor Swift song. That did not last. But I still feel like a Taylor Swift song for Dirty Projectors.