Written by Abi Humber Tuesday, 26 January 2010 19:49
Aaaaaaah! The mid-January slump! I hope you know what I’m talking about. Here in Chicago, it’s been disgustingly wintery for months—overcast, dark, colorless, freezing, rainy, snowy… bleck. I’m not a big fan.
I mean, the tall, dark buildings against a gray sky are beautiful for a little while, but monochrome gets really old really fast. I miss sun and green and water that isn’t actually ice and frolicking and freckles and my orange summer hair (except I actually don’t miss that particular hue at all).
Maybe I have no reason to declare myself a victim of the seasonal slump, considering that people in Alaska literally may not see the sun for months. But maybe I just want something to blame my grouchiness on.
Everything in my life seemed to be going so well lately, but it’s Sunday afternoon and I just feel frustrated. I don’t know what it being Sunday afternoon has to do with anything, but I just thought I’d let you know.
I was trying to brainstorm column ideas earlier today with my friends at lunch, but every idea I had got brutally shut down. Well, maybe not brutally—I tend to be overly sensitive. Oh well. When you’re a victim of the Mid-January Slump, everything is horrible and offensive and life seems very.... Lame.
Right now I’m sitting on my bed, trying desperately to think of something I care enough about to write about. I can think of about 23,593,495,058 random thoughts, but none of them can really piece together into something that I would choose to read about.
This is starting to remind me of my high school classes with Mr. Woelk. Each year, there would be some smart-alec kid who wanted to write his paper on how badly he didn’t want to write a paper. About 20 minutes into writing, the kid would realize how worthless that idea was. That’s how I’m feeling right now. I’m writing about how badly I don’t want to write. Awesome.
Well. Just on time. It’s been about 20 minutes and I have realized how bad of an idea this is, so instead of complaining I’ll tell you about random things.
Yesterday I saw “Crazy Heart,” with Maggie Gyllenhaal and Jeff Bridges. It was really good. Parking cost us $17, though. That was not as good. But seriously, the movie was worth the overall cost. Maybe.
Every Thursday evening, I babysit a 7-year-old boy for a few hours. One week, we discovered that his stuffed elephant, Hudgey, could also be a soccer ball, baseball and basketball. I kid you not, for two hours we held the Hudgey Olympics. I have never been so exhausted.
The next week, the instant I walked through the door, the little boy threw Hudgey at me and said, “He can be a football, too! Hike him to me!” Maybe the Hudgey Olympics were a mistake…. I fear the madness will never end.
Fun fact: the 7-year-old boy’s dad is a dead ringer for Jemaine Clement, from “Flight of the Conchords.” Google it.
I’m allergic to wheat, but I eat it all the time anyway. Until five days ago, that is. No more grilled cheese or bagels or cereal or cookies or pizza. Clearly, this severely limits the variety of cafeteria food available to me.
However, two days after quitting wheat, I stopped being sick. I’d had a stuffy nose and horribly scratchy voice since before my birthday, in December. Worth the sacrifice? I can’t decide. The scratchy voice was kind of awesome, and grilled cheese is delicious.
Oh! I would like to alert the world that I have become hooked on “Lost,” the TV show. This is very conformist of me, but I don’t care. I’m only three episodes into the first season but am looking forward to locking myself in my room and avoiding all members of humanity until I can stop being so grouchy—stupid Mid-January Slump….