Okay, I lie. Two and a bit years ago, I moved to southern California from New Jersey. Now I love February, I indulge in February, I get a sun tan in February.
But, back when I was living on the east coast, I hated February. I mean, really really hated it. Really, seriously, hate hate hate February.
Typically, by the time February rolls around, I have been a prisoner in my own home for the better part of two months, with no hope of parole. Think of Bill Murray stuck in Groundhog Day forever. That's me in February.
Just the thought of February makes me want to punch the crap out of a snow man.
I'm going to cut this blog short. The sky out my window is brilliant cobalt blue. The temperature is in the 60s. I'm going to take a walk. Breathe in the pure mountain air. Commune with nature. Believe me, my change of venue has done wonders for my mental health.
For the rest of you, I advise clicking on Therese Borchard's video classic, "The Most Crappiest Time of the Year." Also check out her piece on beating winter depression.
In a while, Crocodile ...
From mcmanweb:
Seasonal Affective Disorder
As the darkness settled in, I could feel the whole city turning against me. It was as if everyone in the phone directory had entered into a secret pact to make my life miserable.
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