There are certain times of the year for everyone. Times of joy, times of sadness, times we just want to shut the blinds and pretend we have the week off.
For me, that time lasts an entire month—the month of February.
Most people might find it odd to hate a month. It’s just period of time, it doesn’t have feelings, it’s not malicious.
I say that’s simply not true—the month is out to get me—and here are the top five reasons why it’s dreadful:
Unoriginal: No month mimics another quite the way that February mimics January. Get a life.
Indecision: As if having 28 days in a month wasn’t already an annoying anomaly, every four years the 29th day gives me 24 more hours of the Febnoxious month.
Holidayless: President’s Day just doesn’t really get it done for me.
Valentimes: I know that’s not really what it’s called, but I refuse to recognize the most depressing day of the year as a holiday, or call it by its proper name. Instead, it just adds to my hatred.
Cold, Dark and Squirrel-free: I enjoy sunlight, warmth and squirrels—February (usually) grants me none of those.
Subway seems to feel my pain as they now offer me any foot-long sub I want for just $5. However, that factor is not quite redeeming enough for me to relinquish my hate-filled view of the month.
Judge, jury, calendar creators, I rest my case.
