I *heart* February
When I get in my car these days, it starts beeping at me before I leave my neighborhood. I used to think this was cute. When the thermostat falls below 37 degrees, the car beeps and the temperature flashes. I don't know why this is. I don't know why 37 degrees is the magic number. I do know that what I once thought was cute has now become annoying. Where I used to pat the steering wheel softly and say, "Yes, I know it is cold," in a little sing-song voice like I was speaking to a child? Now I just tell the car to STFU.
Because, well, it is February. I hate February. Loathe, actually, would be a better term. February is like a big black hole for me. The only good thing about it is that it is the month before March, which has March Madness and St. Patrick's Day. And February is short. So we've got that going for us.
February has my least favorite holiday. Of course, that's Valentine's Day. I used to wear black. Now, I can't even muster up that much energy. Instead, it is more like what Victorian women used to tell their daughters about sex. Just close your eyes and think of England. Indeed. I do that every time I go to the grocery store and walk past the greeting card section. Tea, scones, strawberries and cream. Then, instead of being depressed about a lack of prospects at Valentine's Day, I just get hungry.
I also hate cold. I spent most of my formative years in the south. Or, The South. I remember going swimming on Christmas day one year. I was probably seven. That, in my mind, is a normal thing. Flowers are supposed to be out in time for the Masters. You're supposed to be able to lay out and get some color in April. February is a bad week down there. Here, it is a black hole into which you fall and can never escape.
When I went out east to school, I discovered depths of cold and depression the likes of which I'd never known, all courtesy of February. My nostril hairs would freeze when I went outside. That's not right. Or natural. Nostril hair is there to be unobtrusive. You aren't supposed to see it or feel it or even know it is there. When nostril hair is frozen, it isn't comfortable. It is disturbing.
Not that it got too much better there when it warmed up. That just meant that all the frozen dog poo? The poo that no one picked up from in front of the house for five months because that's how long its been snowing? That poo starts to melt.
And people wonder why I don't have a dog.
So we're in February. And I feel like I shouldn't be complaining, because the winter has been so incredibly mild to this point. We've only really had cold temperatures for three weeks or so. And at least the sun is shining today.
But then my nature takes over and I remember that I was in Florida three weeks ago and why the hell did my parents move me back up here during high school for, anyway? What were they thinking?
If I can just get through to the bracket selection show, I think I'll be okay.
Because, well, it is February. I hate February. Loathe, actually, would be a better term. February is like a big black hole for me. The only good thing about it is that it is the month before March, which has March Madness and St. Patrick's Day. And February is short. So we've got that going for us.
February has my least favorite holiday. Of course, that's Valentine's Day. I used to wear black. Now, I can't even muster up that much energy. Instead, it is more like what Victorian women used to tell their daughters about sex. Just close your eyes and think of England. Indeed. I do that every time I go to the grocery store and walk past the greeting card section. Tea, scones, strawberries and cream. Then, instead of being depressed about a lack of prospects at Valentine's Day, I just get hungry.
I also hate cold. I spent most of my formative years in the south. Or, The South. I remember going swimming on Christmas day one year. I was probably seven. That, in my mind, is a normal thing. Flowers are supposed to be out in time for the Masters. You're supposed to be able to lay out and get some color in April. February is a bad week down there. Here, it is a black hole into which you fall and can never escape.
When I went out east to school, I discovered depths of cold and depression the likes of which I'd never known, all courtesy of February. My nostril hairs would freeze when I went outside. That's not right. Or natural. Nostril hair is there to be unobtrusive. You aren't supposed to see it or feel it or even know it is there. When nostril hair is frozen, it isn't comfortable. It is disturbing.
Not that it got too much better there when it warmed up. That just meant that all the frozen dog poo? The poo that no one picked up from in front of the house for five months because that's how long its been snowing? That poo starts to melt.
And people wonder why I don't have a dog.
So we're in February. And I feel like I shouldn't be complaining, because the winter has been so incredibly mild to this point. We've only really had cold temperatures for three weeks or so. And at least the sun is shining today.
But then my nature takes over and I remember that I was in Florida three weeks ago and why the hell did my parents move me back up here during high school for, anyway? What were they thinking?
If I can just get through to the bracket selection show, I think I'll be okay.
posted by Miss Head at
5:30 AM
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