I know it's probably not okay to hate an entire month, but I really hate February. I hate it so much. February and October are my two least favorite months. February makes my boots feel heavy. It feels like the work will never end, like summer will never come, like I'm perpetually in need of a good cry, like there will never be enough dark chocolate.
I've caught the Swat Plague. I'm usually a pretty healthy person, and I don't get sick very often. You've probably heard me brag about my "immune system of steel". Buy my immune system has failed me, and now I'm sick. I'm really bad at being sick. I'm not one of those who powers through it and keeps their chin up. Not me. I whine, and I whine a lot. And I feel debilitated and stop doing life. Yesterday, I spent the entire 90 minute yoga class in child's pose. And I went to bed at 8. Got 12 hours sleep. Needed it.
I've drunk my weight in tea. Specifically tea with lots of honey.
I've got essays to write and books to read, but I think I'll let them go for now. Because I think that's the only way to get through February. Instead, I'm going to read some of my favorite poems, and start Sound and The Fury again, because rereading good books might be the only way to get through this plague and this month.
Like I said, I whine when I'm sick.