I AM done with January. Let me rephrase that – I AM so fucking done with January.
Normally, I like the month. I look at January as a low-key, low-stress month – a welcome break from the crazy months that proceeded. A settling into winter with comfort food and even more comfortable … flannel? I was trying to think of some fun ‘comfort’ wordplay to go along with food, but couldn’t. So I’m sticking with flannel. Anyway, even though the month is 31 days long, it rarely seems burdensome.
Conversely, February was the month I often dreaded. Yes, I love the thought of February – not because of Valentine’s Day. Remember, it’s me. I would never love February because of Valentine’s Day, okay? Think about it. February should be an easy month. I mean, it IS only 28 days. For some reason, though, it’s never easy. I’m not sure whether it’s the cold, the snow, or that damn Cupid. But, the month drags.
Now since everything I’ve come to know and expect for decades is out the proverbial window, I am at a precipice – ready for what February has in store. So, it better be … better than January. I try to keep my expectations realistic. Oh, yeah, if that Groundhog decides to fuck things up, one of Cupid’s arrows will make him rethink that shadow shit.
