Grrrrrr

(Warning: I'm cranky. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.)

I hate this time of year. Every year, I become more and more convinced that I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, or whatever it's called when too many sunless days robs you of the will to, well, do anything. Hmm, it's kind of like reverse pathetic fallacy, isn't it - I get lugubrious like the sky.

The weather can't seem to make up its mind and so we're in never-ending cloudy murkiness with patches of rain and wanna-be snow. My office is full of windows that haven't seen any sun for days, and so it feels like I haven't woken up since about Sunday. With daylight saving + our plodding trudge towards the shortest day of the year, what little non-night there is seems to be disappearing exponentially.

In addition, my body seems to have played a fantastic joke on me by waiting until two years after 30 to shut down. I sailed into the decade thinking, psssht, what's everyone talking about? I feel the same as I always did. And now, ha ha, good one body!, I'm unpleasantly surprised by creaking and lassitude and a metabolism that has slowed. to. a. craaaawl....

(No metabolism + perpetual darkness + the carb-loading in which I inevitably partake at this time of year = hibernation. Wake me up in April.)

And, apparently, I've lost all will to avoid contractions. Next thing you know, it'll be a descent into comma splices and dangling modifiers.

That's about all I've got, really. I'm sorry - this post falls into the "better post something lest they think I'm dead" category - apologies. Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow.

(Noooooo...now I've got visions of red-headed moppets singing cheerfully about life's hard knocks and cheering up FDR. Or was it Theodore Roosevelt? Whoever was in the wheelchair...)