Oh, February. If you know me, then you know that February is my least favorite month of the year (excluding my parent's anniversary and Dad's birthday, of course). I know, I know....I should be appreciative of every single day I have on this earth. I am very aware of this. But February is what I imagine the last three miles of a marathon must feel like. FOREVER. EXHAUSTING. PERSEVERANCE. EXTREME TEMPERATURES. On top of that, my skin is back to the palest shade possible and my jeans are fitting just a little bit snugger than they were pre-Thanksgiving.
On a different note, this month is also the light at the end of the tunnel. March is only a few weeks away. And with March comes the planning of vacations, online purchasing of bathing suits (let's just be honest: no one wants to try on bathing suits under the fluorescent lights in the department store fitting room with such alabaster skin as mine), and daydreams of what my garden might look like two months from now. As silly as this may sound, it is a big month of hope for me. Without experiencing the most dismal, gray, "bleh" month of the year, I wouldn't be able to appreciate the rainbow of colors amongst the flowers and the smell of honeysuckle in the springtime. Or the sunshine, melting Popsicles, and a slight breeze in the summer. Or the crackling of leaves on the ground, eating al fresco, and warm apple cider in the fall.
So I guess I'm confessing this: Even though I don't like it, I wouldn't want to live without it.