It's a new month, which means that updates are in order. And a bit of an observation I've made ('cause, you know, I don't have anything else productive to do).
I've long thought that January is the Armpit of the Year. After about four months full of holidays and things to look forward to, the best January can offer is one measly three-day weekend that, traditionally for me, involved some kind of yard/housework. And it's still stinkingly freezing outside, so everyone is cooped up inside and getting on each other's last nerve (unless you ski, I suppose). Generally speaking, I hate January.
That being said, January wasn't too bad for me this year. I think graduation had a lot to do with this and the fact that I have a job that I enjoy and I was pretty much left to my own devices, which is how I best flourish. So, as far as I can tell, this is one Armpit of the Year that bothered to use deodorant (there was one minor incident, but even that managed to turn out to be a positive thing. Eventually).
But now we're into February, which is just January only with pink (unaffectionately termed by me a the Other Armpit of the Year). Granted, there is that fabulous day halfway through where chocolate gets marked down to half-price. And it might be okay if the Super Bowl turns out how I want it to (the Giants pummeling the Patriots' little drama-queen behinds into pulp). But by and large, I hate February for many of the same reasons I dislike January.
Which serves to make another point - if you must endure something distasteful, get it over with as quickly as possible. Then you can go on to happier things (like birthdays and months with more substantial holidays). But while it's still Armpit Time, find a deodorant you like and make the best of things.
EDIT - In the midst of my general "nonproductivity," I forgot to make special mention of the latest installment of "Suburban Utah, Y U A Drama 'Hoor'?" - Evidently a new high school in Draper cannot have the Cougar as its mascot because it's offensive to middle-aged women.
You know, I love my state and all, but I'm glad I'm not from the Wasatch Front. Those people are crazy.
I've long thought that January is the Armpit of the Year. After about four months full of holidays and things to look forward to, the best January can offer is one measly three-day weekend that, traditionally for me, involved some kind of yard/housework. And it's still stinkingly freezing outside, so everyone is cooped up inside and getting on each other's last nerve (unless you ski, I suppose). Generally speaking, I hate January.
That being said, January wasn't too bad for me this year. I think graduation had a lot to do with this and the fact that I have a job that I enjoy and I was pretty much left to my own devices, which is how I best flourish. So, as far as I can tell, this is one Armpit of the Year that bothered to use deodorant (there was one minor incident, but even that managed to turn out to be a positive thing. Eventually).
But now we're into February, which is just January only with pink (unaffectionately termed by me a the Other Armpit of the Year). Granted, there is that fabulous day halfway through where chocolate gets marked down to half-price. And it might be okay if the Super Bowl turns out how I want it to (the Giants pummeling the Patriots' little drama-queen behinds into pulp). But by and large, I hate February for many of the same reasons I dislike January.
Which serves to make another point - if you must endure something distasteful, get it over with as quickly as possible. Then you can go on to happier things (like birthdays and months with more substantial holidays). But while it's still Armpit Time, find a deodorant you like and make the best of things.
EDIT - In the midst of my general "nonproductivity," I forgot to make special mention of the latest installment of "Suburban Utah, Y U A Drama 'Hoor'?" - Evidently a new high school in Draper cannot have the Cougar as its mascot because it's offensive to middle-aged women.
You know, I love my state and all, but I'm glad I'm not from the Wasatch Front. Those people are crazy.
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