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Tell Me Why

The other day, someone asked what's wrong with me-that I use to be charming to be around but lately, well, all I seem to do is yell and act like a bitch.

Moi? Well, I act like a bitch because YOU are an @$$.  Really.

I tried to think back to when I lost my perpetual smiley face, and started adding a profanity to every sentence like a dime school rapper. It seems to have happened right after Labor Day.  When my tan starts to fade and I put the shorts and tee shirts away in favor of denim and leather, I become the female version of Kanye West.

I suffer not just from SAD but from T-SAD: THREE-Season Affective Disorder.  I don't get depressed or angry in just the winter (although that's the worst).  I start as soon as the leaves change and maintain this pissy demeanor right up until I can dip my toes in the ocean again. That Polar Vortex thing put me in a high speed wobble-especially when the pipe burst in the garage and water drenched not only everything I had left post Sandy, but the classic car my brother had just bought and was storing at my house. Son #3 and I passed the cell phone back and forth saying "You call him and tell him." No you." No YOU." until I fearfully made the call and asked him to move the car from under the waterfall. (PS-he was very calm.  Especially since we found the shut-off valve and I used every beach towel I owned to dry the sucker off before he got there.)

And that's just the tip of my Titanic bitchy iceberg.

My web research on winter depression says I should be exposed to bright lights in the morning since my "circadian rhythm" has shifted.  The clock tells me to get up, but since I'm not working full time, my body says "FU" and I stay in bed, with the laptop open to Google (to diagnose my malaise) and computer games that are certainly rotting my brain. Besides not getting out of bed, I fall asleep early-like 9:30 which has done nothing for my social life.  Of course, if I decide to start hanging around with Vampires my social life will be awesome, since I wake up every stinking night at 2:00. Wide awake.  And according to what I've read on the web, this lack of sleep may give me Alzheimer's in the future.  So I'll be hanging out with Vampires and not remembering why.

The web also says winter depression could be triggered by concerns over money.  Wingman and I alternated years paying the basic bills, but I always had the job of getting paperwork ready for the accountant for tax day.  Inevitably come January every year, I would storm into the family room with a fist full of receipts screaming "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU SPENT ON CD'S AND VIDEOS LAST YEAR???"  Which would lead to weeks of accusing each other of our wasteful spending habits and months of recrimination.  Yesterday, I sat at the kitchen table with the puppy at my feet, and went through 2013 receipts.  "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I SPENT ON SHOES LAST YEAR???" I yelled.  The puppy looked up at me, wistfully hoping that I would drop a cheese curl from the bag I found crushed on the floor of the pantry. "AND HOW MUCH I SPENT ON DUNKIN DONUTS AND STARBUCKS???"  No wonder the Weight Watchers that I paid for for six months didn't work.

There are all kinds of other reasons why winter truly sucks the life out of me.  Instinctively, I know that by the time there are buds on the trees, I'll start feeling better, and by the time I buy my beach badge, I'll have a smile on my face.  Until then, I just have to stay out of other people's faces and use Wingman's method of beating the blues-counting down how many days until pitchers and catchers report.

Because the boys of summer, namely the Niagara Baseball team is coming to town, and on March 29th, I'm hosting a team dinner as a thank you for helping me rebuild after Sandy.  And I wish Wingman was around for it.  Because there was nothing like a spring baseball game to bring out the best in both of us.


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