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March Madness: It's grey and gruesome, crusty and gross

If you are as done with winter as Wendy is, Everything King reminds us to hold on just one more day!
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I have self-diagnosed myself with a new disease.

It's not as serious as SAD (seasonal affective disorder), where people actually suffer from not enough sunlight, but it may be its distant cousin. I call it semi-sad.

The symptoms are extreme lethargy, a need to nap, increased procrastination and a general dislike of society in general.

Even worse than being annoyed by others is when you annoy yourself.

Things take too much effort.

I feel this my annual case of March Madness.

If March had a perfect one word description it would be “blech,” if that is really a word.

The colour of March would be beige. 

The food of March would be hummus. No real colour and not much taste.

By now, snow is no longer the least bit attractive. It's grey and gruesome, crusty and gross.

All the joyous Christmas glitter is long gone leaving in its wake emptiness and a muddy carpet.

The Christmas candy has been devoured and the holiday spirits have been guzzled.

My effort to declutter, which once gave me fleeting bits of joy, has now gone on so long I want to dump every single item I own, but can’t afford the giant dumpster that is required.

Your car is filthy on the outside and scattered inside with coffee cups with unrolled rims reminding you of your loser status.

By this time of the year, Valentines are long gone and the mail deliveries consist only of confusing documents needed for tax filing.

Everyone on your Facebook friends list appear to be on a Caribbean vacation. Everyone but you!

In the last three months, I have shared, on my timeline, my fill of positive mantras meant to inspire and I have now reverted instead to quotations like: “I intend to move just enough today so nobody thinks I am dead."

I know this negativity is not an attractive quality.

There’s nothing attractive at all. I am running on caffeine and dry shampoo.

It feels like you’re already tired tomorrow from yesterday.

I can’t be the only one just holding on by my fingernails.

I know “this too shall pass” as it does every year with the first sign of a robin or a plant poking through the garden or seeing the cat grooving in a ray of sunshine.

It will only take these six little letters -- S P R I N G -- to make things right again.

C’mon sing it with me: “Tomorrow, tomorrow…there’s always tomorrow, its only a day away."




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About the Author: Wendy King

Wendy King writes about all kinds of things from nutrition to the job search from cats to clowns — anything and everything — from the ridiculous to the sublime. Watch for Wendy's column weekly.
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