May is my favorite month — daylight lingers, the breeze is warm but not sweltering, the trees burst into whites and pinks, crickets begin chirping at night again. May had better not have an identity crisis and resign itself to weeks of rain, though (cough spring in Chicago cough); on the bright side, I get to practice my willpower by walking past tulips and not bolting back to my apartment with a stolen bouquet in hand. I used to do a number on my parents' landscaping handiwork and blame it on the rampant hordes of deer that live by my house. Mom and dad weren't amused... plus, it was pretty obvious when their Dutch tulips somehow found their way into a vase and onto my dresser.
Days in May should always consist of:
Milkshakes. Particularly the kind made with crushed Oreos
from Edzo's (the place I'll miss most when I leave Evanston).
from Edzo's (the place I'll miss most when I leave Evanston).
Laying in the sun, preferably on something soft and luxurious.
Or outside, somewhere new but no less luxurious.
Fresh-cut flowers. You deserve them, damn it.
A chic haircut... particularly this wavy bob.