Yes, yes, y-e-s. The weather is absolutely gorgeous. And on a day like Saturday when temperatures peaked in the mid-60s and the sun was shining all day long, I am reminded why I love Michigan. This gradual shift in and out of seasons is comforting, knowing that I don’t have to fully commit to a season for a couple weeks. Anyway, Saturday was the kind of day that made me feel like I have been cast as an extra in not-another-college movie. I woke up early, not hungover but certainly tired from being out the night before, and made myself a delicious breakfast. I heated up some olive oil in a skillet I liberated from my grandma’s house, then dumped in chopped up potatos, red bell peppers, white onions, and corn. I let the oil sizzle beneath the cool vegetables and waited until the potatos were very nearly browned. Then I pushed the vegetable mass to the side of the pan, cracked two eggs onto the hot skillet and watched as egg white met up with hash browns. I turned the heat down, careful not to let the yolks solidify and went outside for a cigarette in the early morning sun.
The sun was beating down on me, still clothed in pajamas–shorts and a tank top–and though I was chilly, I did what any good Michigander would do on the first sunny day of spring and let my bare white skin soak up as much natural vitamin D as possible. When the ash finally burned its way down to the filter, I stubbed it out on the bottom of my flip-flop, dropped it in the flower pot on the back steps, and let myself back into the house. The kitchen was warm with the aroma of slow-cooking vegetables and fried eggs. I sprinkled some cheddar cheese over the pan and then pushed it all onto a plate. I poured a glass of milk and sat down in the living room to enjoy my breakfast feast while watching Survivor Man on the Discovery Channel.
As I sat there, housemates trickled in and out of the living room, each with a different skewed perception about the start of the day. Some were rubbing sleep out of their eyes and finding the sunshine all too shocking for them. Others were embracing the sun, stepping out onto the front porch, squinting their eyes and opening their arms to the day before them. And still others were upstairs in their beds, still hungover from the night before.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I made my way down the softball field with my roommate. We passed the fraternities, marvelling at how the boys were outside, most of them shirtless, tossing around footballs and baseballs. Their hip-hop music was blaring from inside and could be heard even as the Amtrak roared right past us. People were out walking their dogs and going for runs. Students were playing tennis on the courts, and others were running laps around the track. A good-sized crowd had gathered at the softball field, and students cheered the team on as they won both of their games against KZoo.
And we talked about plans for next year, promises of bi-monthly formal dinners hosted in our living room; a pool of money to split costs of bread and milk; hammocks in the living room and on the front porch; an ice luge in the wintertime from the top floor; and a 15′ trampoline complete with safety netting in the spacious side yard. Oh, and don’t forget the Razor scooters.
