february muse

february has always turned out to be my worst month, mercifully short. on paper, february shines: there are a million reasons why i should love it. it contains valentine's day (a holiday i have always liked), several birthdays of dear friends and loved ones, and president's day (off). for many years, the weekend of february 9th meant a trip somewhere to celebrate an anniversary. february also plays host to the superbowl (in the past few years at least) and the oscars: two sundays i have always looked forward to. in addition, i like the spelling of the word february, as well as the colors pink and red.

but i'm always prone to depression, irrationality, overeating, itchiness, and dehydration in february. in february, my clothes don't fit, i'm dry and scaly, my tastebuds revolt, i forget to drink enough water, and, instead, i'm constantly drinking alcohol. i become mischevious, disobedient, irresponsible, messy, and catty. this phenomenon is documented. my face is becoming blotchy, bloated, and red as i write this. i'm a february monster.

here's proof- it's the first day of february and already i'm hungover at work, i'm wearing dirty clothes, i've sneezed about a thousand times, and i ate a chocolate shake for breakfast. i don't even like chocolate. see? irrational, irresponsible, and noisy. and it's only day one.