late

It is no secret that, every year, I hit a SAD zone. It coincides, usually, with February. This year, I ran late. I’m not sure what the trigger is – it may be a lack of sunlight or fresh air; it may be delayed post-Christmas denouement; It may be a residual sorrow for the loss of my single-child status. (Love you, LilBro!)

Regardless. It hits like a tonne of bricks. I find myself doing things I hardly ever do:

- (re)reading dozens of favourites, hardly ever leaving bed;
- listlessly wandering through the machinations of work (it’s amazing how unproductive I can be and yet go entirely unnoticed);
- avoiding chores (small things, like laundry and dishes)
- desperately seeking company (and becoming the one thing I really hate being: needy)
- watching romances (damn you, Netflix!)

I usually just need one good sunny spring day with a warm breeze that allows me to open my windows to snap out of it. The kind of day that’s spent doing laundry and cleaning the bathroom with 90’s music in the background. It usually means fresh sheets, new curtains, and donations piles. My fridge gets stocked with hand-squeezed juice and neat containers of conveniently cut veggies; my counter overflows with cakes and cookies. If I get a whole weekend, it will mean new projects for the rest of year – lists of birthday cards to make and dresses to retrofit and organisational designs for closets. I won’t touch my computer except to boot winamp. It’s high-energy.

That is not today.