I woke up today in the usual mid-winter way, which is to say that I was roused from my deep slumber by a cat sitting on my chest complaining loudly about the state of her food dish. The dish, I should mention, was less than half full and thus her displeasure. It was about 9:30 this morning (I love my job) and although I didn’t want to get out of my warm bed, I dragged myself forth to face another meh day in mid-February.
While rolling out of bed at the stroke of 9:30 may not seem so bad, it’s really even more depressing than getting up at the crack of dawn (stop talking about my crack) because half the morning is already gone and it still looks dark out. It’s also dark when I get home in the evening. Fortunately, I was more eager to get up this morning: I had actually dreamt about Justin Beiber last night and wanted desperately to shake off that nightmare. In the dream, JB performed a song in my classroom, and then gave my students autographs and concert tickets. They were just throwing them in the trash. How dull is that? Even my dreams have the mid-February meh.
The sky today is gray (again) and last week’s snow is still sitting on the ground. New snow is kind of pretty, as long as you don’t have anywhere to go, but old snow just looks dirty. It gets all blackened from car exhaust and mud, and it sits in giant piles where it’s been plowed out of the way for weeks and weeks, even well into April or May sometimes. I am tired of looking out my window in the morning and seeing gray and white. Winter is so monochromatic.
Some doctors refer to this winter depression as seasonal affective disorder. That’s a fancy name for what I’m calling meh. If you’re one of my lucky friends who lives in California or some other sunny and warm-all-year place, this is a real thing you can be grateful you won’t ever get. Some people buy sun lamps for their homes to give the illusion of a different season. I think I get the meh around Valentine’s Day. What a crappy Hallmark holiday that is. Let’s make single people everywhere feel inadequate and obligate couples to spend money on garbage that will end up in their yard sales by June. I need a Valentine’s equivalent to “Bah Humbug!” I’m going with “Meh.” Some of us are smart enough to just date Netflix until spring. I am eager for the crocuses and daffodils to poke through the snow and let me know I’ve survived another winter.
In summation, it’s Wednesday. Meh.