The Worst Month

It keeps snowing, and then melting a little, then snowing a record-breaking amount, then melting a little more and then the water on the sidewalks all turns to ice when it turns hurricane-strength windy. Could it just stop already?

On top of that, my skin is so incredibly white. I'm talking blue-white. I remember when I was living in Guatemala and my Irish roommate's friend came to visit. My Guate b-f was so surprised at her skin colour. The boy had never seen such whiteness. Now I fear I am that white. Except I don't have a charming Irish accent to make it all okay. I hate it. I'm tempted to start using that stinky fake-tanning cream that after a few hours starts smelling like sweaty socks... and a faint smell of sweaty socks is bearable if it's on your feet, far away from your nose. But on the face? Pretty rank.

Last winter when I came back to Canada, at least I only returned in December so I didn't experience the full winter. This time, I get it. To be Canadian is to suffer. Not suffer like people from some places do, where they've lived under fascist dictatorships and feared for their lives and faced death threats. Here, the fascist dictator is the cold. The death threats come from the wind. We can't even start a coup and get rid of that dictator. Every year, he's here with a vengeance; some years, he's angrier than others. This year, I feel like he just won't let up.

I know some people whine that January is such a bad month. January doldrums, everyone all depressed after getting so fat over Christmas and New Years. But maybe this is the worst month. Bloody cold when you're ready for a break. Snow is a bit of a kick in December, when it's supposed to be all pretty and Christmas-y. Now it's old news.

Man, I really am so completely Canadian at this moment, complaining about the weather.