Why I Hate February

There are many reasons that I hate February.  Here they are, in no particular order.

• All I hear about is balloons.  All month long.  Starting on February 1st, Sarah is allowed to start talking about her birthday and related topics, like balloons.  I really, really, need to change this date, since her birthday is almost the last day of the month.  Anyone who knows Sarah knows that the girl has a master's degree in perseveration, and by the 3rd of February I am ready to scream at the mere mention of anything balloon-related.

• Girl Scout cookies.  They come out in February, and our house becomes filled with boxes of overpriced sugary, calorie-laden treats.  With the new system, you order boxes of cookies that you think you can sell without taking orders first.  That means that the cases of cookies don't actually belong to anyone, making temptation that much harder to resist.  At least before I knew that if I allowed myself to morph into Cookie Monster, I would have to be accountable to someone for eating their order.  Now... all bets are off.

• Tagalongs.  These are a subset of "Girl Scout Cookies".  They should be a controlled substance.  They are my crack.  I CANNOT stop eating them once I start. I get big googly eyes, sprout blue fur, and leave a path of destruction in my wake.  It's not pretty.

• Valentine's Day.  When I was single, I used to hate it for different reasons, but the truth is I've never been fond of this holiday.  Now that I'm married, I treat it with resigned distain, wondering how my husband will ignore the holiday this year. And how I will refrain from raging jealousy when my friend's husbands don't.

• Chocolate.  It's everywhere this month, and that's not a good thing.  I need a little each day to keep me going, but having it around in so many forms is just not healthy.  It doesn't stop after Valentine's Day, either, because retailers move straight to Easter, and we all know it isn't possible to celebrate Christ's victory over death without chocolate bunnies and chocolate eggs.

• The skiing gets bad, but the cycling isn't good.  The season for one hobby is slowly dying, but it's not yet time for the next, leaving me in exercise limbo.  I guess that's why I've got a treadmill.  But combine this ennui with the aforementioned cookies and chocolate, and I've got a real dilemma.

• My birthday.  I have reached an age where even the receipt of gifts does not compensate for the sadness of adding years to my age (and face, and... well, you get the idea).