I couldn't recall a bleaker January in all my years in the Western Hemisphere. The cold breeze, and constant rain seem shattering to the very core of both flesh and spirit. It's not quite the polar vortex. But it's nippy and it shoots up the energy bill, which is a fortune and ruins the budget for the season.
As the ads on the telly and the features on free magazines splurge on travel, I couldn't join in the revelry of huffing and puffing with a backpack. Maybe when there are a few gold coins stashed away and necessary time off available, I'll think of the beach in January. Not this year though. Maybe next year, if I won't eat the rest of 2014.
It will be warmer, soon. I find it more inspiring when it's warm. I could think better. Maybe my little girl would give me some leeway and allow me time and space to read more books, I wouldn't stress so much on cultural differences. But I would still moan and sweat on the tiny, tiny stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment