Mr. Eliot may have claimed that April was the cruelest month, but what exactly is so bad about mixing lilacs and desire anyway? As far as cruelty goes, that ranks right up there with wearing one's trousers rolled and daring to eat a peach--not exactly the stuff that nightmares are made of.
February on the other hand--the weather turns bleak and the IRS turns ugly, what with all of those little tax reminders rolling in, and the flesh that has provided insulation during the winter suddenly threatens to become permanent. Add to that a virus season that lasted for far too long and infected most of the known world and there you are--the winner for the cruelest month goes to...February!
The past month has been virtually unlived by me--wrapped in a tomb of sleep and rousing from it only to do what absolutely needed to be done. Normally I'm someone who has loathed the entire concept of naps since the day I was born--and suddenly my entire existence was one gigantic nap. This is not a life, and this was February.
There's a feeling of wild exhilaration that comes at the end of February, and this year that end was even more welcome than usual. It also brought with it a new appreciation for body fat--when lack of health forces hibernation upon you, replenishing caloric needs is not a high priority. Without my winter fat cells, this could have been an even bleaker February for me, and I now have a newfound appreciation for plump. Plus now that I'm feeling better, food tastes good again--viva le appetit!