February sucks. Every year. Aside from being the death month of my mom, husband and Henry the Cheeseman, it's cold, it's harsh and it brings out the worst in people. Back in 1985, I spent the whole month of February in bed. I'm considering doing that this year.
Locally, the politics are enough to make you want to forget everything but where the Ambien is. And with John Edwards outta the race, I don't care who gets nominated now. I'll zombie vote Dem in November. Anyone has to be better than Bush.
And Thursday is Valentine's Day. Talk about masochistic-sadistic holidays. The only thing worse than family holidays is a celebration of romance. I don't have a valentine this year, but even in all the years I have, I can only remember one lovely Valentine's Day. It's a ritual. Another "you have to". Blech.
Then we have Presidents' Day, another combined-and-made-a-monday holiday. Big deal.
Oh, and this is leap year, so we get an extra day of torture in Sadie Hawkin's Day. Last Sadie Day I did propose to a guy. I didn't really mean it, but I did it. How depressing.
Which is the crux of What's Wrong With February. It's depressing. I don't have one person in my life who's happy. Not a one. Everyone is in turmoil of one or more forms. Even children aren't the careless laughing creatures they used to be.
I'm going back to bed.
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