It's February. If a month of the year could be my nemesis, this would be it. Every year I swear that I will leave the country in February and not come back until it's over because nobody really needs to see what February reduces me to. It leaves every year with me a sobbing and quivering mess of anxiety and depression.
This year I spent the first eight days of February making rainbow mobiles off of Pinterest in hopes that sewing countless bands of bright paper together would counteract the fact that I hadn't seen sun in way too long.
My apartment has super high ceilings with a loft storage space and the worst ladder of all time which I am terrified to use but let Jay climb (Yep. I am the best girlfriend ever.) Instead of waiting for Jay to come and put up the mobiles I decided I could manage it if I climb on the back of the couch, grab the loft shelf, and use high jump momentum to cantilever myself out into the room with a hand full of tape-covered rainbow mobiles. This worked great until I kicked the mouse for my Mac across the room in a wild flailing maneuver. Not that it stopped me, I just got really upset at February for being a bastard and breaking my mouse since it obviously had NOTHING to do with my ungainly feet and poor judgment. When Jay showed up and asked how I got the mobiles up without the ladder I could feel my eyes shifting away Jon Lovitz style as I muttered something about cantilevers and support systems.
But the mobiles are up and they are as happy and cheerful as I could possibly need. My mouse healed itself (Apple products are so damn smart). Jay brought me tulips, there are only 11 days left in February and I didn't break any bones trying to leap up to my ceiling. I think I might make it through!