Sorry, February

February has gotten the short end of the stick on this blog as of late, but, frankly, it deserves it. February hasn’t been all that nice to us either. First it was Snowpocalypse 2011, and then it was each and everyone one of us succumbing to the…

What the hell was that? The flu? Couldn’t be—we all received our shots. RSV? Yeah, Doctor, that’s what you told me it was, but I checked in with Dr. Google, and that didn’t fit either. In fact, I think Google may actually be older than you are, so I’m going with him. How about the three week crud (which, by the way, can be used to describe a variety of diseases)? Yep, I’m going with the three week crud.

The only highlights of that were the fever-induced conversations we had with K. Those were great. Now every time someone walks into a room, you are likely to have the others shout, “Elephants!” upon your arrival. I won’t explain further; it will be a mystery. Perhaps it will develop a cult following, and become a hash tag on Twitter. #ELEPHANTS!

Then, last week you get all of our hopes up with your southern breezes and your sun, and your temperatures in the 70s… all just to WHAM! Hit us again with the 22 degree crap. My office is freezing, and I wear my coat all day long at work. While the heat runs constantly, no less. Thanks. I really do appreciate it.

Not to mention the mud. Thanks for the mud. It’s so bad in our backyard that Sophie, who loves the mud, and loves to be a big, stinky dog, takes one look out the patio door and decides that she can hold it for a little while longer.

All of this during my work’s busiest month of the 2010-2011 academic year. You know, just to make life interesting once again. I needed to deal with snow and sick kiddos while we had important visitors on campus and admission offers to contend with.

Deep breath.

Okay, now that I’ve gotten the whining and moaning out of the way—it did feel cathartic-- let me tell you what February has done right:

It allowed the crocus buds in my front flower beds to pop up. I also think I see the tips of daffodils poking up through the desiccated mulch.
It brought back the noisy blue jays to our willow tree. I missed them. For the moment I will ignore the fact that they will be dive-bombing us on the way to the car every morning in about a month.
It made the sap start to run again. This means leaf buds are not that far behind.
It gave more light to the end of the day, so that it is daylight when I get home each night.
It did also give us some better options for nightly TV as well.

In all actuality, I should be more civil to the month of February. It has Valentine’s, our anniversary, and Ant’s birthday. It usually marks the end of my seasonal affective disorder—aka—Sarah is super-cranky because the ass-crack of winter sucks. Most importantly, February is the gateway to March, glorious March—with its warmer temperatures and thunderstorms and tulips and Spring Break…

So I will say sorry to February, from the bottom of my heart. I have either ignored your presence or lambasted you for the past three weeks, and frankly you don’t really deserve it. Completely. Just, please, please, don’t bring any more surprises during the last seven days.