The Winter of Our Discontent

Stupid winter. Stupid recession. And is it just me or does their simultaneity exacerbate the stupidity of each of them? The sum is greater than the parts, indeed.

Spring needs to come, like now. It feels like I've been either trudging through snow or mincing along icy sidewalks for about 800 years now. I'm sick of my winter coat. I'm sick of all my winter clothes, in fact; they are, of course, equally sick of me and the hibernation diet of the past months that has led to their being unfairly abused in their seam regions. I'm sick of stinky, steamy moist kids mittens. I'm sick of a salty car. I'm sick of indoor playtime.

I'm sick of economic doom and gloom. I'm sick of bailouts. I'm sick of owing income taxes - why can't things just get calculated correctly in the first place so I don't have to send back money that never should have seen my bank account. I'm sick of worrying about layoffs. I'm sick of getting into the housing market after the credit crisis so that now I'll have to put down 50% as well as my first-born as collateral when two years ago all I needed was a pulse.

Stupid February.

Ah well. There's always this:

See? Less sick already.