I have a bad case of the blues. In fact, every building on campus does, so I guess I speak for us all. But I suppose I should mention why I have the blues: there are nose prints all over my windowpanes.
All those funny little creatures are back again, running through our doors at all hours of the day and night. They looked so excited last week when they were leaving. “Easter,” they would say, beaming.
Now they’re trudging around like someone shot the Easter bunny over holiday. All they do is stare out our windows (hence the nose prints). And sigh. They sigh a lot.
They’re fascinating creatures, even if I’ll never understand them. They migrate here in the fall, and they’re all excited and optimistic for some reason. Then they hit a low point somewhere in November before a slight uptick in optimism in December, when they migrate away again.
Then, smack in the middle of the coldest part of the year, they come back and are full of energy. They make no sense. They should be hibernating in a cozy corner with a book and a blanket, but instead they brave an icy wasteland, with smiles that I assume must be frozen in place. Maybe they are grimaces instead, but it’s hard to tell.
And then: springtime. They mope. They whine. They stare out my windows like they would rather be somewhere, anywhere else. I feel like I have a terrible infestation of fleas. Antsy fleas.
Tragically, their blues are contagious, and now I have a bad case. I’m all congested with a bunch of irritable creatures. Nose prints on the windowpane blues, I call it.
The day is warm and sunny, with bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Birds sing in the trees, just beginning to bud. Squirrels romp. Noses smear my windowpanes. All throughout campus, the curious creatures heave a sigh.
“Just three more weeks ‘til summer,” one said, “but I think I’ll probably die.”