Misery loves company, or so they say, and I feel in February the somewhat grumpier version of myself likes to know that others are somewhat miserable about this weird middle-of-everything -cold-weather-month too.
In general I feel like February makes me far too aware of time and space. I count the days of the week like clockwork and notice much too closely when it’s only Thursday versus Friday and even worse: When I wake up on Tuesday thinking it’s Wednesday only to come to realize it’s Tuesday. #TheStruggleIsReal.
This is not to say I don’t love my job: I do love it. But you can love your job and still have that seasonal illness that comes with January and February. Especially in moments when you try to be optimistic and say spring is soon, and people respond with “March will still be freezing!” That never helps.
(The Los Angeles and Miami peeps are chuckling right now to themselves: Do you still have January and February scaries when you live in California or Florida? Inquiring minds would like to know.)
Anyways, I digress.
What’s worse about February is that it often can have the effect of making me feel a bit numb. I think I do best when I’m on the precipice of a new season, or in a timeframe that invokes seasonal fever. If you think about it, January or February are the only months that don’t fall into those two categories.
Let’s start with March and April: Both are on the precipice of spring, April then also invokes the seasonal fever of spring. As does May, which is also on the precipice of summer. Then forget June, July and August: The summer fever is real. September has that crispness that means the beginning of fall. And come October I’m basically drunk on autumn. November and December are holiday fever galore.
So as I said, it’s really January and February that I have a love/hate relationship with.
Do you feel the same? I’d love to have you share, as it feels good to have Potatohead comrades in these cold middle-months…