I find that winter is a difficult time to get much of anything done. It's cold outside, the sun only shines for an inordinately short portion of the day, and there are books to read and movies to watch while sipping hot chocolate. Add to that my own work rhythms which lead to me wavering between The Productive Mensch, Vanquisher of To-Do Lists and The Slug Mensch, Creator of Couch-Indentations, and there is something of a productivity gap in the first part of the year. I work like a mad-woman all through the holidays to get everything done, and then I find the couch calls my name for much of January, no matter how stringent my resolutions may be.
Generally, however, February 2 marks the beginning of my real work ethic for the year. At that point, even the worst winter will only last another six weeks, and knowing I'm only six weeks away from daffodils and crocuses (crocii?) helps to motivate me back into productivity.
This year, however, is different. Last week, we were enjoying gorgeous 50 degree weather with attendant blue skies and singing birds. It felt as though spring was in the air and that no one had a care in the world. The groundhog let us know that there would be six more weeks of winter, but with weather like that, who cared?
Then, of course, someone remembered that I lived in Indiana and turned on the depressingly bleak sky with a side of wet snow. I went from feeling end-of-March productive to early January slug-like in a matter of days. And we're fresh out of hot cocoa.
So, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go curl up on the couch. Those butt-prints won't make themselves.