February is a short month. It plays host to holidays such as Family Day
and Valentine’s Day but for me it is 28 days of sheer struggle. It is cold and dreary and long. I detest going outside. Invitations to go on winter excursions only
make me shiver and sneak yet another peek at summer pictures on my new
calendar. I am far happier being
miserable in February. How do you deal
with the cold dull ache in your joints and the constant cravings for stodgy
foods? The rumble of the snow plough thundering up and down the road was
getting on my nerves. The month of
February saw me clearing the snow off my car every single morning. My wipers were stuck up like alien antennae
so as not to freeze to my windscreen.
The taps in the old farm house I call home dribbled annoyingly every
night so the pipes wouldn't freeze. The
furnace had broken down and there were subzero nights I slept in my coat and
boots hugging a hot water bottle awaiting a part. How do you get through this short depressing
month? It’s simple...you eat
butter!
Butter month as I affectionately named it
was something I stumbled upon unwittingly.
Struggling with maintaining a weight loss and endeavouring to lose the
last of my poundage I was blindsided by an undeniable craving for
BUTTER!! I was cold and tired and sick of salad. I opened the cupboard and there it sat in its
bowl all yellow and soft and salty and inviting. No matter what I did for the rest of the
evening my thoughts would come back to the sight of that dish full of
butter. I tried oh so hard to sway my
thoughts in other directions but to no avail.
The next thing I knew there I was standing in front of the butter bowl
at three in the morning. Butter is such an
available vice. It just sits there
calling softly to you from its bowl every time a winter chill shudders through
your body. I of course answered its
call. Night after night I would wake up
and hear that butter calling...calling...like the Sirens who tried to lure
Odysseus to the island of Anthemoessa.
At the end of the day I am thankful that February is the short
month. Unlike Odysseus I didn't have any
wax to plug my ears nor magical music from the poet Orpheus to drown out the
sound of that infernal butter.
