Winter is my new favourite season.
Perhaps because it's perfectly acceptable, at least in my mind, to stay home. All season. Watching tv shows on dvd, baking and knitting, making endless cups of tea, sitting with cats on top of you, wearing flannel, listening to records, reading and reading, playing with your dog in the snow, and hanging up decorations, and not communicating with other people at all. Okay, except via email.
Summer is usually reserved for thinking about what you've done with your life, what the hell you're going to do with your future, and why life is so totally unsatisfactory. Some people call this "patio season."
But winter seems like a good time to be happy with what you have. So you can not care that you're not a perfect union organizer, or that you're tone deaf, or that you forget to floss three days a week.
Maybe because it's the time of year that makes the starkest difference between the haves (even those that have very little) and the have-nots (because there is always someone with even less than you).
From where I'm sitting, things look pretty okay.
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