I get it. I live in Wisconsin, right? This is winter in all its messed up glory. Normally, I have a much cheerier attitude about winter, going all Pollyanna and spouting, "But if it wasn't for the dreariness of winter, we wouldn't appreciate the spring!"
Yeah, F that shit.
It's never going to end. It's going to be February forever.
At first, I thought my awful attitude was a result of being in the basement all winter last year. (See here for a refresher as to why.) Like maybe missing last winter has made me soft somehow, and I lost my ability to cope with it. Well, then I heard similar sentiments from my friends and family, all of whom weren't stuck in a dungeon for early 2012, and they have the same feelings.
(My friend C. is a features editor for the local newspaper. He was trying to get ideas for some feature stories for this month, and the best idea he could think of was "The Top 10 Places to Get Drunk In the Area." I heard his wife came up with it. I'm totally on board with that idea.)
|This is my backyard when it's not covered with snow and ice and despair. It's never going to look like this again, so I'm glad I took a picture last year.|
I'm trying to improve my attitude, really. My birthday is next month, and I'm trying to remind myself that it's generally warmed up by then. The days aren't as long any more, and it's actually still light out at 5 p.m. when Disgruntled Husband comes home. The stores all have Easter candy out right now, with cute pastel decorations involving green grass and bright yellow chicks. But then my inner cynic comes out in the middle of Walgreens and shouts, "You can't promise me Easter Egg hunts when you have Ice Melt on the end cap of an aisle with Peeps!"
So again I say, F that shit. It's never going to end.
The sky is the same color as the ground, and has been since Thanksgiving. The beautiful white fluffy snow of Christmastime has iced over to the crusty, dirty piles of crap along the curb. Even my kids, who love playing in the snow, are sick of it. "Is it ever going to spring, Mommy?" Mini Me asked.
No. It's not. Ever.
I'd admit to some sort of Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder if I had one, but I'm not depressed. I'm just pissed. I have a bad attitude, and much to Disgruntled Husband's dismay, they just don't make a pill for Asshole.
I feel like I'm waking up everyday and it's the same day. Suddenly, Groundhog's Day (filmed in Woodstock, Ill., near where I grew up) doesn't seem so funny. I tip my soggy knit woolen hat to you, Phil Conners. You were a severely misunderstood man.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pity party waiting in my bed, under my covers. I'd say "Wake me when spring comes," but like I said before, that's never going to happen.
February is never going to end.