Hannah Jones /Winonan

Spring break is coming yet again, and I can’t help but feel that its arrival is poorly timed.

Don’t get me wrong: I could definitely use a vacation—mostly from schoolwork and baked beans, but also from my apartment.

During the course of my one and a half semesters living here, my apartment has had a few troubling issues. The handle on the microwave came loose. The heat broke. The lights burned out. The heat broke again. The drains clogged. The bathroom and closet got flood damage from a clogged sink in the apartment above us. The washing machine sputtered and turned into an ice-cold aquarium in which my load of colors could swim like some obscure species of sweater-fish. The heat broke a third time.

I need a vacation.

The only reason I feel spring break is ill-conceived at this point is that on any given night, I could be watching the Hoth cave scene in “Star Wars: Episode V” on my TV and looking outside my window—and not be able to tell which is which. I can spend hours watching the train go by and waiting for Harrison Ford to show up.

Our “spring” break is so early, we’re sent off in the middle of winter. Technically, the month of March counts as spring, but anyone who’s lived in Minnesota for a season knows that spring doesn’t start until the rest of the country is gearing up for summer. Our weather systems are late bloomers.

That’s all fine and good for those of you who plan to escape to somewhere warmer for spring break. However, some of us have not made plans to jump the state border, and so are stuck with a week of spring break spent in eight inches of snow.

Spring break will find me stateside, mired in all the snow and shivering, even in my favorite flannel pajamas. It’s not that bad, truly. It’s basically winter break without Christmas or the flu.

However, if I find myself with some idle time and snowed into my house—having already baked six kinds of cookies, solved every jigsaw puzzle, caught up on my entire Netflix queue and written about six petitions to develop the necessary technology to move the sun closer to the earth—I can foresee myself getting a little stir-crazy.

At times like these, I find that the imagination is the best coping mechanism. When the snow starts to get to me, I’ll simply pretend I’m someplace tropical.

You may be imagining me throwing on shorts and flip-flops and frolicking in the snow and ice, babbling about how “warm the sun is on my face” and how I can hear the ocean. I promise you I’m not that far gone. Yet.

No, my plan involves a lot less delusion, and a lot less hypothermia. When I need a little spring, I’ll simply follow these steps:

1. Go into the kitchen and put some ice and assorted fruit into the blender. Add a tiny paper umbrella and a maraschino cherry with a wedge of orange to the rim of the glass.

2. Grab a laptop and create a decently lengthy playlist of anything Elvis ever sang about Hawaii.

3. Go upstairs and change into a swimsuit—bikini preferred.

4. Go into the bathroom, lock the door, set up the laptop in a safe, dry corner of the room and run a hot bath.

5. Sit on the edge of the tub and soak your feet in the hot water. For added effect, close your eyes and picture Elvis sitting directly across from you with his guitar. He’s complimenting you on your bathing suit, and telling you that that song “Cant’s Stop Falling in Love” was about you. Now he’s offering you a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich. It’s warm. Very warm. (This is optional, but encouraged.)

6. Check to see that no one is watching you zoning out and drooling.

7. Enjoy the tropical weather.

It may not be a California vacation, but I’m thinking it’ll be enough to get me through these last few rough weeks of winter. Spring, after all, is just around the corner—or, at least, I imagine it is.

Contact Hannah at [email protected]