I love spring. Really, I do. It’s in my top four list of favorite seasons. But at the same time, there is something about spring (specifically relating to spring break) that makes me sad.

You see, spring break gave me a little taste of freedom, which is a horrible, terrible thing for a student to have. I spent the first few days golfing in the glorious North Dakota sunshine, perfecting my happy dance, eating and reveling in a complete and utter lack of responsibility. After the first days, my conscience began speaking to me.

You should really be doing productive stuff. Those papers and exams aren’t that far away, you know.

At this point, I got a text from my cousin: “I know it just snowed, but do you want to go golfing?”

As usual, goodness barely put up a fight.

You may wonder why I would go golfing on a thirty degree day, so allow me to let you in on a little secret: I only golf well in abominable weather.

I made this fascinating discovery during my years in high school golf — on a pleasant, sunny day, I would most likely be hacking it up in the nearest group of trees. But give me cold, rain and 40 mph winds to basically ensure my best round of the season.

So, there you have it: I love golf. It’s a sickness, an addiction, I’m afraid. And this sickness is at the heart of my springtime sadness.

After being cooped up inside all winter, I just want to be outside. Specifically, I want to be outside, on a golf course. Especially after spring break gave me a taste of it again.

It seems like cruel and unusual punishment to be sitting in an indoor classroom while precious springtime hours that could be spent golfing are passing by. Even the rainy days don’t help — I still get the urge to grab my clubs and dash off into the dreary, yet promising dawn.

Sadly, golfing (poorly) does not pay the bills, or help me in the pursuit of my studies. So I have to be content gazing out of the window, dreaming of my next fix.