Wednesday, February 9, 2011

New England in February

The dank, winter month of February kicks my ass every time. This is the tipping point in the winter where I feel as if my family and I are living at the bitter cold, remote and demented Overlook Hotel in The Shining. It doesn’t matter how many hopeful sun salutations I perform and miles I pound away on the treadmill. It doesn’t matter how much citrus I eat, trying somehow divine its golden promise. It doesn’t matter if I exfoliate and moustruize twice daily. By this time of year I feel flabby and grey and scaly and my mood is morose at best.
We all have snot and are housebound, roaming the hallways, looking for trouble and needing some relief.
You will never, ever hear me complain about the sweet, sticky, summer heat.

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