Parkas and Prozac

I wonder . . .

Do people in Hawaii every get depressed? What about the Caribbean? Do they sell less Zoloft there? Are razor blades hard to find?

I would assume.

Because I live in the anti-sunshine section of the world and let me tell you, it can be downright depressing. At least for the six months out of the year that winter’s icy hands try to strangle all the happiness out of the world in its 50 below/cloudy for days/clutches.

Seriously.

If you have not been to North Dakota you do not know cold. And you do not know cloudy. Imagine if Seattle were in Antarctica not Washington.

That.

Is where I live.

And every year round about the Ides of January I start fantasizing about a suicide plan. Let’s see, how tightly does that garage door shut anyway? And what did I do with that extra rope again? How high are those rafters?

Well, not quite, but by then I definitely have a full blown case of cabin fever punctuated by my longing to be able to walk outside without my face hurting. In fact, winter induced depression actually has a medical term: Seasonal Affective Disorder. And yes. The acronym?

You got it.

S.A.D.

I am not even making this up! It’s real. Google it.

My mom always jokes that she is solar powered: happy when the sun shines and driving my dad nuts when it doesn’t. (I do think my father secretly checks the forecast every day in some feeble effort to decipher my mother.)

And so, of course, everyone who doesn’t live in this Godforsaken Tundra does ask the obvious: WHY DO YOU PEOPLE LIVE THERE?

Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because we’re all phobic about leaving our homes so being trapped inside them by ice, snow, and sub-zero is our idea of fun.

Duh! Sucks to be us, yes, it does. But it is a good question. And every winter I do wonder the same thing and start checking out the real estate market in Tampa.

Honestly, I think the reason people do reside here might have everything to do with the euphoric arrival of spring. Because I will tell you what, there is nothing better than watching your backyard transform from an ice cube to Eden. Witnessing that monumental miracle floods you with relief that Mother Nature is not a b*tch after all.

Because look at that tulip.

Hello?

She brought flowers. It's time to kiss and make up.

Alright, so up this way she may be a little bi-polar, but her tundra temper tantrum is temporary. Eventually people put away the rope and razor blades and trade them in for beer and boats.

And that “SAD” acronym takes on a whole new meaning.

Summer’s

Arrived

Dude.

So party on.

(At least until next November anyway.)