This time of year is always hard on me. Mostly because it sucks.
Seriously, does anyone look forward to late January/early February? And if so, what on earth is wrong with you?
I admit fully that it's mostly the weather (and, yes, all my friends in the great frozen tundra, I bow to your superior weather horrors, but I live *here*, and in Tennessee gray and 50 is still crappy weather). By February I'm positively pining for spring, I can feel it, I can taste it, it's SO CLOSE--but I have to remember not to let warm February days fool me, because I promise you all, March in Tennessee is even worse. I don't know why, I don't know how, but March is a horror show in the south. So, it's hard to get happy in February when you know March is in the wings waiting to rrrrrip the rug right out from under you, with late season freezes and more cold, drizzling rain than you can shake a stick at. Blah. Blah, blah, blah.
I want green grass and spring flowers. I want to trade all the depressing grays and browns in the woods and the mountains for cool blues and shiny new yellow-greens. I. Need. Spring.
So, yes, it seems I can't get motivated, not to write about our weekend in Manassas or gush about the new Broccoli and Cheese casserole we tried yesterday. Not to clean out the penicillin-growing leftovers in my fridge. Can't even get excited about Valentines Day, or the new neighbors, or the ideas I'm percolating for pottery class. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, I can tell you all about it. But for now, the gray skies are weighing me down, and the most exciting thing I can think of today involves a nap.
Oh, sweet couch nap...five o'clock. You. Me. It's a date.