This is the winter of my discontent.
I don't know where that line is from, but I'm sure I've heard it somewhere.
The last three months have been cold, wet, snow-covered, muddy, dark and miserable. We've had about 10 days of fog - yes, fog - since January. Some mornings I expected Christopher Lee to meet me on my doorstep and suck my blood before I could drive to work. Some days I wished he would. Even work has been dark and miserable thanks to the recession. I don't care what our magazine says, flowers are a luxury item. That's why I never buy them. That, and the six cats.
Warning: all lilies are deadly poisonous to cats. Don't bring them into your home.
The lack of sunlight is showing on us native Kansans. Our winters are generally cold winds and clear skies. A friend of mine commented that this winter was like being back in her native Michigan.
Makes me think I wouldn't like Michigan winters. Deprive me of sun, and I'd rather spend my life in bed under the covers. Add in the hamster wheel that has become my life - the continual sense of running in place without accomplishing anything - and I'm pretty sure this could qualify as purgatory. If I believed in purgatory, that is.
I promised myself two winters ago I would stop complaining about the weather. I was tired of hearing myself do it; I can't imagine how tired everyone else was of hearing me. Since then, I try very hard to keep my depressed thoughts to myself and share only the happy ones.
Friday, we had a beautiful snowfall. It was about two inches of fluffy, wet whiteness. It didn't gunk up the roads, it made the landscape photo-worthy, and it was gone by Saturday. Perfectly behaved snow, we all agreed.
I'll do my best to hold on and comment only on the good stuff. I've gotten new, higher-watt, daylight bulbs and set aside money for the electric bill, but I don't know that it's helping much. I have over 15 days of vacation to use before September.
Maybe I'll take them all now and sleep through February.
Except, in Kansas, March is the month to watch out for. It's always a lion.