So it's official I've hit the point in the season where I am sick to death of snow. It's right on time, February is my limit. In the fall I am the annoying person who is cheering on the first flakes. I squeal in delight when I wake to a soft white blanket covering the earth. I put my sky high heels away in favor for my Docs and warm boot socks. And I am genuinely happy for a month or two. But by February my deeply annoyed husband has a true companion. I want to live in a hot bath or under a pile of blankets, nestled with my hubby and daughter like a nest of cats. I want all the rich, warming, comfort food. And most of all I long for sun and green grass. Don't get me wrong I'm not wishing for summer. I never fall that far down the rabbit hole. But I am becoming miserly with my warmth.
So what am I doing to counter this bought of seasonal affective disorder? I'm certainly not doing the smart thing, and hitting the gym. Although I will make an effort in that direction tonight. Instead I am whining. I am winding bright green yarn, and planning spring dresses to sew. I am living under my covers with my latest books. I am sketching the new layout for my vegetable bed and dozing off while day dreaming about the new rail collection system I will build in March. On the one hand I could argue that I am planning. But to be honest I am no where close to productive. And my pants are getting any looser. I have one more month to the Shamrock Shuffle 5K. So today I vow to ignore the weather and get a run in. After tutoring I WILL go to the gym and get on that treadmill. And I will ignore the the forecast that littered with that dreadful S-word. I will perk myself up...... Just right after I finish this chapter and take another nap.
