Grumpy Monday

I saw a snippet on the news last night about how the 3rd Monday of every January is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year. Something about cold weather, the after-Christmas let down, (and, I would interject, the realization on debt incurred over the holidays) the number of days left until Spring, etc. However, for us desert dwellers who rarely see a gloomy sky, let alone a drop of rain, the cold weather is far from depressing. In fact, we tend to bask in the glow of dark skies and sub-seventies temperatures... heck, we may even make some hot chocolate and put on a pair of socks just to celebrate.

So, I respectfully disagree that Mondays in January are particularly depressing.

Unless you are 38 weeks pregnant.

Being very pregnant on any Monday in January might be just a little bit sad. But not because of the weather or the recent fleeting passing of the holidays. It has more to do with something else.

Like no longer fitting into once-too-large maternity clothes. Or not being able to accurately check your blind spot because your great and spacious belly will no longer accommodate such dramatic movement in a space as small as your driver's seat. Or not being able to eat anything within 5 hours of going to bed so as to avoid heartburn, only to wake up at 1, 3, 5 & 7 am with acid in your throat anyway. Or painfully reaching into the bottom of a shopping cart to retrieve groceries just after painfully squeezing past said shopping cart in an effort to reach the cash register in the narrowest aisle in all the grocery stores in all the world. Or trying to bathe an active 2-year old. Or trying to chase said 2-year old. Or trying to put said 2-year old in time-out. Or turning over in bed. Or standing. Or breathing. Or finding this picture in the computer archives.

All I have left to say is this:

Come on, February...