A realization has begun to dawn the last twelve hours of my life.

I am pissed the hell off at the weather. And the complete and total lack of sunshine, or warmth, and the wind blowing a zillion miles an hour. There’s construction on work-campus, and so there’s red mud everywhere and now my shoes and the cuffs of my pants are dirty. It’s too damn cold to ride my bike anywhere, or to go for walks. Even Sam doesn’t like going outside anymore. It’s absolutely miserable.

I will never complain about 110-degree heat again.

I have noticed a pattern in my life over the past ten years or so; I am always in a really foul mood around Valentine’s Day. One year, the first Valentine’s Day I was ever in a relationship, I left an AIM away message up that said, "Gone to Border’s to study. Fuck Valentine’s Day and fuck you." I knew my boyfriend would see it, but I just left it sitting there. I just wanted to piss everyone off. I’m beginning to wonder if I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder. I’m not sure we need a medical term to describe something like that, but I’m pretty sure I have it, because it shows up almost at precisely the same time every year. I feel like I want to punch somebody’s lights out.

I feel the exact same way today. On any given day I love my job, I rather like school this semester, and I really love being at home with Brian and Sam. Last night I yelled at Sam and put him in his room three hours before I went to bed. This morning I’m thinking about starting a fire in my office. I feel more on edge than I have felt in a long time, and I need some damn sunlight, some warmth, some fresh air.

Brian and I are going to Vegas at the end of the month. I hope I make it that long. I am having so much trouble treating myself like a beloved relative today. I’m so sorry.