yours, tiramisu

warm december

Today it is sunny and seventy two degrees Fahrenheit, warm enough to wear a t-shirt and shorts comfortably. December isn't usually this nice—the weather lady said we set a record high today. If it weren't for all the leaves on the ground instead of in the trees, you could be forgiven for thinking that spring came early this year.

Walking down my street in nothing but a t-shirt after an entire week of freezing rain feels like seeing again for the first time. It's not like the weather this particular day is inherently special; if it had showed up in the middle of April I wouldn't have given it a second thought. But as I walk I realize my enjoyment derives solely from the fact that this day showed up now, in the dead of winter when nobody expected it.

This all sounds a bit silly now that I write it down, but for me today's sunshine is just another reminder that perhaps more than anything else, it's our expectations that influence our happiness. We would do well to manage them, and revel when they are pleasantly surpassed.