I remember -- from "back in the day" -- an advertisement for a movie where the catch phrase was "Just keep telling yourself -- it's only a movie."
That's kind of how I felt yesterday, when the temperature soared to the mid-60s and the sun was bold and beautiful through the wispy clouds.
It looked like one of those spring days when kids, crazed by cabin fever and looking for an escape, skip school and when adults call in sick just to enjoy the weather.
It looked and felt like one of those days when it is better to wake up in a tent or camper on the edge of a lake or in the depth of the woods than to reach over and slap at the alarm clock when it screams.
It appeared as one of those mornings when, at first light, you slip the canoe into the water at the edge of a cove and glide peacefully through the morning, boating crappie and bass and whatever else dares to attack the bait you are casting their way.
It unfolded as one of those days that draws you to moon phase tables to ascertain what day of the month might be the best day to fish, or to sit in heavy cover waiting for a large Tom Turkey to strut by, or to plant the first seeds for the springtime garden.
It was one of those days that make you want to -- no matter how premature it might be -- pop-up the pop-up and get it ready for the camping season. It was a day that called to your inner pioneer to do get out and do some pioneering.
Yesterday was one of those days when some folks don their leathers and shake off the briskness of the morning air to reach the warmth of mid-day while riding down the two-lane in the saddle of their favorite motorcycle.
Yep. It was one of those days. But, alas, it was just a day.
And on that day I had to keep telling myself, "It's only February."