Wednesday, February 18, 2015

F*$# February

Far be it from me to question a poet like T.S. Eliot, but I am pretty sure February, not April, is the cruelest month.

More often than not, I just feel like crying.

I'm cold. I recently tried wearing my sister's half gloves to keep my hands warm while typing. They were a little frilly and I took a lot of grief.  They did sort of work, but I got tired of taking them off whenever I went to the bathroom.

I'm tired. The recent snow brought back my jumpy feet.

I've felt out of breath for no particular reason lately twice, and Mom remembered it happened last February, too. I find it especially annoying because I recover and then have to do something really strenuous like getting out of bed that legitimately wears me out.

I hate that it is dark, too.

I need summer.


Anonymous said...

Seamus and I refer to Connecticut as the Texas of New England because it takes so long to drive through. Recently he called February the Connecticut of winter. Shortest month, longest passage of time.
I love you.

Matt Trott said...

But the guy who hugs me every night is from Conn.

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