magid

It's that time of year again. Time for the fling. Really, I suppose I ought to call it an orgy. A weeks-long orgy, but nut just a prim and proper (or not so prim and proper) time with just one. How could I choose just one? The rest of the year, I know I'm rather stick in the mud, boring and predictable. But in the spring... who can resist the spring, with all that sap running, inspiring everyone? Newness everywhere, the desire to experiment, the excitement of the warm weather, it all comes together, and I find myself following the same path as I did last year, and the year before that. Really, who could resist, with everything putting everything on display. At least I'm not as vulgar as some of those flowers, brazen hussies that they are, using all that color to entice the bees over. I mean, interspecies relations shouldn't mean interspecies relations. And of course, with flowers, it's over so quickly. I'm so glad it's so much longer for us, getting to try so many options and permutations over the weeks, the tease, the dance, the time to play, to experiment with everything I've dreamed of the rest of the year. And while I sometimes hear people complaining about our sex up their noses, I still can't understand why anyone would be annoyed about that.