April began in an unusual place for me: my childhood bedroom. As I currently dwell a tidy 150 miles away from home and rarely have time to do the four-hour trip up to North Wales, it's not often that I get time to visit my family (read: cats). Fortunately, the beginning of April coincided with Easter, which meant I got a delicious four-day sandwich: a four-day weekend nicely nestled in between two four-day work weeks. Thank you for that one, Sir John Lubbock.
As it happened, the first of April landed on Easter Sunday, which meant I didn't even attempt to eat any of my Easter eggs until midday was dead and gone. Anyone who's ever met me knows I loathe April Fools Day with a passion, so I avoided any interaction with my family until the safety net of the afternoon finally arrived and any potential pranks were kept far away from me for another year. Now, I'd like to say my reason for hating April Fools Day is because it's used by unpleasant people to play mean pranks and to turn serious issues into stupid jokes (people who post fake pregnancy or coming out announcements are the worst offenders).
However, the real reason I hate it is because I'm a gullible dingbat who will fall for anything, especially when I've only just woken up. April Fools is exclusively a morning thing, and I am anything but a morning thing. Within the first few minutes of waking up, I will believe anything. Japan's renaming one of its prefectures after a Pokemon? Fantastic! VHS is making a comeback? Hell yeah! Elon Musk is actually just three kids in a trench coat? Knew it.