A One-Finger Salute to February

I've had it. I don’t know how long I can stand it. I hate constantly being chilled to the bone even inside my home. I feel like an astronaut when I have to put on boots, coat, scarf, gloves, and hat just to take my trash out. Is it right that my fingers hurt every time I go outside? Why is it that the interior of my car doesn't warm up until I pull into the parking lot of my destination?

I usually keep a good perspective on the darkest time of year - at first. Early winter has it's enjoyable moments. The holidays sparkle with colored lights and festive merriment. It's fun to pull those sweaters out of storage. The afghan on the sofa beckons cozily. Fantasies of toasty soup and hot chocolate envision a season of cocooning in front of a fire, or in my case, the television.

But by February, the sparkle has turned to gray slush. This is the long stretch between holidays (Valentine’s Day doesn't count unless you're in a new relationship or work for Hallmark) when the drudgery of living without something to look forward to is compounded by endless darkness and cheerless dreariness.

This last round of below zero temperatures pushed me to the limit. I actually wore four shirts at the same time, in hopes of being a little warmer. I considered wearing mittens to bed except it brought to mind an eccentric uncle who wore gloves in the summer.

If Colorado’s Front Range isn't encased in snow and ice this time of year, it's dry and brown. The plains are dusty, dirty, and smoggy between snows. I am aware that the sun is up a little longer each day (everyone is reminding me), but the warmth of spring and the smell of green grass is still a distant dream. And our snowiest month, March, hasn't even started yet.

This past week as I shivered under a heavy blanket and two cats, I watched blizzard coverage on WGN, the TV station out of Chicago that everyone gets on cable. The Windy City was socked with their third worst snow in history, stranding motorists for hours and causing headaches for the outgoing Daley administration. Hey, I'm from Nebraska - I love seeing weather on TV.

I remember winters in the Midwest. One year in Lincoln, my front tire got caught in the same ice rut multiple times over a period of months. It didn’t melt. It might still be there. I remember not seeing the sun for weeks at a time. Denver is downright tropical by comparison. At least our snow melts between snowfalls and we do have the occasional 60 degree day.

Ah! 60 degrees! That's around the average temperature in San Diego this time of year. Sometimes it's a lot warmer. But there is no snow, at least down in the city. There is occasionally snow up in the nearby mountains, causing many who live at sea level to drive up a couple thousand feet to see it. Watching local weather in California, I’m amazed that, unencumbered by snow tires, people visit the chilly mountains wearing flip-flops and actually roll around in the freezing stuff I desperately try to escape.

Next week I will take my 12th annual vacation to San Diego. Leaving a poor winter-bound friend to sit my house and cats, I'll be staying at a nice hotel, Facebooking on a balcony looking over the bay at the downtown skyline. I'll have to motivate myself to drive over a big hill to get to the beach, but I'll be wearing shorts. There’s an In-N-Out Burger on the way. I'll drive with the windows down. I'll gaze at palm trees and think about how they don’t look real. I'll walk barefoot in salty wet sand.

When I return from 10 days of lovely California sunshine, April will be that much closer. And if it rains, I’ll still enjoy myself. Rain isn’t snow.

This Virus Isn't Fair - A BillsWeek Whine

It's back and I can't believe it. The day after Christmas, I came down with the first cold I've had in years. My immune system has withstood the perils of coughing coworkers, people who don't wash after using the restroom, sneezing children in public places, and most recently, the locker room at the health club where guys are overheard to cough loudly and then say, "I'm past the contagious stage."

But the stress of the holidays (sharing everything with family from togetherness to food to germs), lack of sleep during that busy festive week, and severe below zero temperatures which actually made it hard to breathe, wore my body out and made me susceptible to "the bug that's been going around."

It was never very serious. I had both flu shots (H1N1 and regular) early in December so I wasn't worried about dying. I only had a fever for one day. I didn't miss much work because I was taking time off anyway. I only missed a couple days of working out, which has become something of a compulsion.

The worst was coughing so much at night that I couldn't sleep. The usual drugs didn't work. I also lost my voice and couldn't talk on the phone when I most wanted to.

And now it's back. My energy is zilch and I'm reaching for the cough drops again. Dang it! I am now the person coughing in the office that people look at wanting to say, "Don't bring your disease here."

I drink orange juice. I use hand sanitizer, even keeping a bottle on my desk at work. I wash my hands so much that I have cracked wrinkly skin. And still I cough. It's not fair.

This weekend will be dedicated to cold survival: sleeping, cat cuddling, blankets, resting, watching movies (falling asleep in the middle, necessitating watching them again), and reading if I can focus my eyes.

I will, of course, try to make it to the gym. Coughing is no excuse for slackness. And I'm surely past that contagious stage.