That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Honestly, it's the shortest month of the year but it feels like it just goes on and on and on.
It's just one tough mother of a month!
Even spelling FebRuary isn't easy!
We aren't even having our typical February weather so I can't even pin my philosophy on that.
So, I wonder--Why do I spend the better part of each afternoon fantasizing about getting into my jammies and curling up on the couch?
I'm not even a curling up on the couch kinda person....except for when I'm sick or dealing with the wine flu.
I'm not sick and I don't have a daily case of the wine flu.
I can't diagnose myself as depressed because I am not depressed in a clinical sense or even a non clinical sense.
I'm pretty sure of that.
The other day I mentioned my dislike of February and my theory that it was just a lousy month to my friend as we shared a stolen moment over two cups of tea and compared notes on the joys of washing machine shopping.
(Did I mention my washing machine died? I think it died of neglect....)
In a very matter-of-fact tone she told me "February is known to have the highest number of suicides."
"Then why do they call April the cruelest month? I thought it was because April is the month with the highest suicide rate?" I asked her.
"Don't we have anything better to talk about than washing machines and suicide rates?" she asked half-laughing.
"You'd think!" I agreed.
"February can definitely be classified as a lousy month if that's all we can find to talk about!" she gasped in mock amazement.
We went right back to our washing machine talk.