I've officially decided.
I hate winter.
I've always known it wasn't a good time for me, but this year, mere dislike has become a pure, burning hatred.
Maybe the accelerated loathing was from being cooped up in the house with 5 dogs, some who don't like each other, two that need to be seperated due to a hot spot that won't heal and the other wanting to "help" with it, and one who sheds buckets and buckets of hair.
There hasn't been that much snow, just a few dustings, but there were a lot of days with single digit and below temps. Not good when your art studio has cement floors. I felt like that cold had invaded my bones, right up through the soles of my feet, and I spent a some time just shivering and feeling sorry for myself. Then, I decided, to heck with trying to work and flung myself deeply into Netflix and a couple of good books, and so much hot tea that my brain was zinging with caffeine.
Just when I thought I wouldn't make it, or that I'd turn into a jittery couch potato with no interest in leaving my cozy blanket and TV, the weather broke.
And in a spectacular way. We had bountiful sunshine, warmer days, but still, oddly, kept a covering of snow for a bit.
We were able to shoo the herd of dogs and girls outside to get some fresh air, and exercise. The kids used leftover tie dye colors that I'd saved from coloring bottle brush trees, to draw pictures in the lingering snow.
There is nothing like some sunshine to perk me up. End of funk.
Not the end of the season, but I feel the will to go on.
I CAN MAKE IT TIL SPRING. I think I can, I think I can. I think I can.