Today in every single blog I visited, the authors all wrote about the horribleness that is the end of winter.
Kids are sick or grouchy or uncooperative. Every single one of those small people. Parents are tired, stressed, and anxious to feel a little sunlight on their face. Every single one of those taller people.
The end of winter doldrums, February Funk, March madness, cabin fever, tax season. These are all synonyms for the same sad malady we’re all feeling.
(Except you lucky sons-of-guns in Florida. So just hush up all you Sunshine state residents, I don’t want to hear one thing from you. Unless it’s how much tax money you owe to the state.)
Every year I know this time is coming. I make plans, I try to encourage myself by thinking, “This year will be different.” But the truth is, it rarely is.
So we do the only thing we can do. We go into survival mode, which differs for each of us.
This weekend I’m going to persevere the only way I know how: I’m going to eat large quantities of jelly beans, I’m going to scrape the snow off one of my garden beds and plant peas, and I’m going to read a good book while snuggled under a blanket.
This combination doesn’t always work, but it’s a pleasant way to get through the winter blahs.
What’s your coping mechanism, gentle reader?