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Things That Are Actually Great About February

It’s February 1, which means two very important things:

  1. We have survived January, congratulations and
  2. It is Harry Styles’ birthday

Nothing else matters. Not only has our beautiful precious treasure turned the wonderful 24 (that said, I was very sad at 24 and life didn’t improve until 30 but look: we’re all on our own journey), but we made it through the longest month in the history of time. We have emerged, victorious, from the darkness that was January and its endless stream of bad news, bad weather, and general feeling of hopelessness and arrived here. In February. Where absolutely nothing has changed but the calendar, but who cares because it’s a reminder that even when life feels terrible and you want to scream into the night, it eventually ends or at least takes a break. The page inevitably turns. We have hope again.

So I’m here to spur the feeling of general “we can get through this!” And I’m going to do that by listing everything great about February (easily a month worse than January, but don’t worry about it). So that way, when we hit the 16th and wonder how the last two weeks managed to feel like 342 days, we can revel in what isn’t terrible. Which, I will admit, I’m doing way more for me than I am for you.

Valentine’s Day chocolate
Not Valentine’s Day, the holiday for children. (It is a holiday for children. Who is taking it seriously as a grown-up? What’s going on, man?) I’m talking about the official snack of Valentine’s Day: chocolate. Candy. Delicious treats wrapped in fancy foil and shaped like hearts. Cinnamon hearts. That jellybean platter you can buy at Shoppers. I trust a month whose sole purpose is to raise my blood sugar. I rely on it. It relies on me. Halloween wishes it could mean as much.

The last month of laziness
March is great because it promises spring. But also, sometimes I don’t want spring. Sometimes I really just want to curl up at 6 p.m. and watch Netflix until I pass out in my collection of takeout containers. And come spring, it feels different. Sunlight tends to suggest we go outdoors. And sometimes, I like going outdoors. But sometimes I do not want to go outdoors. And while January feels desolate, February is our last hurrah. Because while we’re all dealing with debilitating sorrow, the countdown is on and our indoor time has a proper expiry date. So remind me of this if you hear me complaining, since by April I will hate fresh air so much.

The Super Bowl
Just kidding, I could not care less. But maybe you do, and your morning has been consumed by not being able to handle your wait to watch Timberlake. Whatever gets you through the day. I will never forgive him for what he did to Janet.

Giving up
I went to the mall with my friend yesterday and realized I’d been wearing the same jeans for like, four weeks. And do you know what? I didn’t care. It is February, and our only job is to get through it. We don’t have to look fancy. We don’t have to look put together. Our only job is to be warm. And I love looking nice. But I also love looking at my clothing options and realizing that it’s too cold to wear anything cute, and it will be another day of jeans, Docs, and a sweater. Kind of like in July when we’ve given up in the heat and wear whatever doesn’t give us a heat rash.

A rare and wonderful aesthetic gift.

No shopping temptation
It is the sad time. The winter clothes have been picked over, and the spring clothes feel foolish. (I will see your floral print in hell, I just had to chip ice away from my windshield.) This means that we can hang out at the mall — the greatest place — without buying a single blessed thing. And that is the greatest mall adventure of all: the type where you roam for hours, buy nothing, and realize you are 14 again. So you buy a lipgloss. Before seeing the worst movies of all.

The worst movies of all
The best movies are the worst movies, and February is defined by its mediocrity in cinema. This weekend, I am going to see Winchester. It’s going to be terrible, and I’m so excited. And not even March can take it from me.

http://29secrets.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/Valentines_Day_Candy-150x113.jpg Anne T. Donahue Wellness ,

It’s February 1, which means two very important things:

  1. We have survived January, congratulations and
  2. It is Harry Styles’ birthday

Nothing else matters. Not only has our beautiful precious treasure turned the wonderful 24 (that said, I was very sad at 24 and life didn’t improve until 30 but look: we’re all on our own journey), but we made it through the longest month in the history of time. We have emerged, victorious, from the darkness that was January and its endless stream of bad news, bad weather, and general feeling of hopelessness and arrived here. In February. Where absolutely nothing has changed but the calendar, but who cares because it’s a reminder that even when life feels terrible and you want to scream into the night, it eventually ends or at least takes a break. The page inevitably turns. We have hope again.

So I’m here to spur the feeling of general “we can get through this!” And I’m going to do that by listing everything great about February (easily a month worse than January, but don’t worry about it). So that way, when we hit the 16th and wonder how the last two weeks managed to feel like 342 days, we can revel in what isn’t terrible. Which, I will admit, I’m doing way more for me than I am for you.

Valentine’s Day chocolate
Not Valentine’s Day, the holiday for children. (It is a holiday for children. Who is taking it seriously as a grown-up? What’s going on, man?) I’m talking about the official snack of Valentine’s Day: chocolate. Candy. Delicious treats wrapped in fancy foil and shaped like hearts. Cinnamon hearts. That jellybean platter you can buy at Shoppers. I trust a month whose sole purpose is to raise my blood sugar. I rely on it. It relies on me. Halloween wishes it could mean as much.

The last month of laziness
March is great because it promises spring. But also, sometimes I don’t want spring. Sometimes I really just want to curl up at 6 p.m. and watch Netflix until I pass out in my collection of takeout containers. And come spring, it feels different. Sunlight tends to suggest we go outdoors. And sometimes, I like going outdoors. But sometimes I do not want to go outdoors. And while January feels desolate, February is our last hurrah. Because while we’re all dealing with debilitating sorrow, the countdown is on and our indoor time has a proper expiry date. So remind me of this if you hear me complaining, since by April I will hate fresh air so much.

The Super Bowl
Just kidding, I could not care less. But maybe you do, and your morning has been consumed by not being able to handle your wait to watch Timberlake. Whatever gets you through the day. I will never forgive him for what he did to Janet.

Giving up
I went to the mall with my friend yesterday and realized I’d been wearing the same jeans for like, four weeks. And do you know what? I didn’t care. It is February, and our only job is to get through it. We don’t have to look fancy. We don’t have to look put together. Our only job is to be warm. And I love looking nice. But I also love looking at my clothing options and realizing that it’s too cold to wear anything cute, and it will be another day of jeans, Docs, and a sweater. Kind of like in July when we’ve given up in the heat and wear whatever doesn’t give us a heat rash.

A rare and wonderful aesthetic gift.

No shopping temptation
It is the sad time. The winter clothes have been picked over, and the spring clothes feel foolish. (I will see your floral print in hell, I just had to chip ice away from my windshield.) This means that we can hang out at the mall — the greatest place — without buying a single blessed thing. And that is the greatest mall adventure of all: the type where you roam for hours, buy nothing, and realize you are 14 again. So you buy a lipgloss. Before seeing the worst movies of all.

The worst movies of all
The best movies are the worst movies, and February is defined by its mediocrity in cinema. This weekend, I am going to see Winchester. It’s going to be terrible, and I’m so excited. And not even March can take it from me.

annetdonahue@gmail.com Author Anne T. Donahue is a writer and person who lives just outside of Toronto and knows way too much about the Great British Bake Off. 29Secrets

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