Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Ah, winter. The cold fresh air hitting your rosy cheeks. Low sun and first flakes of snow. Mulled wine, cosy nights in, warm kisses under the mistletoe...
I bloody hate it all.
Every year, from the last golden days of October, I succumb to a dark, creeping, humming panic. November is a dark month. The clock change leaves me in a listless, lethargic heap on the floor, wailing as the nights close in, the mornings ever darker. The super-bright SAD light makes me feel dazed and a little cranky. I resent having to get up in the dark, get dressed in the dark, and return home in the dark.
I've watched moodily as winter has crept stealthily around my favourite blogs. There has been talk of wooly leggings, studded tyres, and, horror of horrors, cycling in the snow. *Shudder*. It all leaves me feeling very inadequate and vaguely ashamed of myself for having given up on my twice-weekly commute to the other end of town. I'd foolishly been cycling in the dark with no front light until recently, but realized I had to change my ways when an old man shouted "NO LIGHTS" at me in the dark.
I blame it all on the dynamo fiasco. It's a lengthy and soporific story of birthday presents, ebaying, royal mail incompetence, and inadequate wires. I'll spare you the details. Let's just say I had to bribe the technician at work with cake to get him to extend the damned thing. Exquisite craftsmanship, Mr. K.
And tomorrow, it goes on.
Winter, I am going to kick your ass.