Spring has arrived!

Nothing signals the coming of spring more than allergies, birds chirping noisily in the morning, bullfrogs croaking at night, and the resurgence of crazy people in public.

All these things are affecting my health adversely. While the first one is a given, yes, I'm high on Allegra all the time, no, it shouldn't be mixed with alcohol (a-ha! that's how I got so drunk!). Birds and bullfrogs are signs that I live in the suburbs. Their happy chirps wake me at 6, 7, 8, and 9. The cacophony of their communications disturbs me more than I would like to admit. At night, the bullfrogs come out, their croaking chorus unstoppable by any means. I would know. One time, I was so desperate that I went out in my PJs to hunt for them. It is the last that frightens me the most.

People who mutter to themselves in public truly frighten me. Talking to oneself used to be thought of as crazy, but now could easily be any person talking on their bluetooth. If no bluetooth can be seen, there's still hope that there's an invisible bluetooth hidden some place on their body. If you have nothing else to do but stare at this person who seems to be talking to no one in particular, take a step back and think that perhaps they are talking to you, and that they are, in fact, your mother in the car. HA HA. (This is a dry ha.)

Recently, this happened to me and a friend while sitting at a Starbucks. Friendliness can be mistaken for craziness because let's face it, no one is that friendly. All of a sudden, this woman who is eating a sandwich by herself - eating a Starbucks sandwich, there's already something wrong with this woman, for God's sake, she's in NYC - turns to the two of us and starts talking about how those transsexuals look so good. We nod, hiding our confusion, in hopes that she'll turn her attentions away. She did, and we ignored her. Later, she turned back, the epitome of friendliness to talk about real estate. Look, I don't know if you have Asberger's or WHAT, take a hint, talking to strangers isn't acceptable.

But, seriously, people who mutter to themselves, it's obvious that they have something to hide. They can't say what they want to at full volume. Their feverish whispers and flickering gazes drive me to cringe uneasily. Then, if you factor in that you're in a place where something could go horribly wrong like I do, and it's definitely a mini-freak out session. Take me, in line at the bank, and this big woman behind is whispering to herself. Could it be prayers? Maybe. I lean slightly closer and quickly realize to my horror that it's pure gibberish. Is she going to flip out, steal shit from this bank while I'm here? Perhaps. It's definitely more likely some unassuming grandma who is depositing her Social Security check. Nothing came of it, of course.

While I welcome the sunniness of Georgia spring, selfishly, I'd rather all the products of the sunniness not come to fruition. Something about warm weather just drives people into action. The season that the crazies come out of hibernation mean that exciting times are sure to come.