Spring did, in fact, arrive this week. For a few days, it actually seemed like we skipped straight to summer. Being on a college campus on the first really nice day of the year is something else – the students act as though it’s the fourth of July, breaking out their summeriest dresses/shorts/flip flops, driving past the office with music blaring through open windows, and throwing impromptu parties on their front lawns, complete with inflatable pools. I make fun, but isn’t that how we all feel on that first really beautiful jacketless day? Like drinking a beer on the front lawn while listening to loud music and shouting with your friends? Metaphorically, at least. You know.

We saw a few houses last week, and learned that there’s a pretty huge difference between a house built in 1800 and one built in 1915. Very old doesn’t necessarily always mean the same thing, obviously. The charm of a house that old can be hard to resist, until you’re standing in the house and realizing what owning it might actually mean in real life. I’ll still want to see every cute one that comes along, but the chances we’ll end up in a cute old house are probably not very high. We have a few more to see this week, and I’m glad about that. Touring houses feels so much more like action. Even if it’s not necessarily action, but process, still.

I’m so behind on Project Life, it isn’t even funny. I have been printing photos and planning out my pages, but I haven’t put anything together in weeks. I don’t really know when I’ll get a chance to work on it again, but I suppose I’ll keep planning and printing and get there eventually. Life seems to get in the way, and that’s okay sometimes.

Here’s the song I’m listening to on repeat this week. The Postal Service sends me back in time to 2003 like few other things. Ten years ago, when I was freshly graduated from college, working at a bookstore and trying to figure life out, and could never have predicted where I’d end up.

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