Poseurs Exposed

February is a vicious month.

It takes all the hope and promise and good intentions born in January and destroys them. You come off 01/01 feeling refreshed and renewed with a sense of change, an excitement of hope and a disdain for the bad things last year brought to you.

You swagger through January armed with mental resolve only to come crashing and bashing into February.

Or more accurately, February comes crashing and bashing into you.

The temp drops to 0 - over and over again, day after day after day. Winds howl, snow flies - and snow flies and snow flies and snow flies.

Sky high snow banks steal your vision.

You shovel out, you roof rake, you white knuckle your way to work, slipping, sliding, braking and not stopping.

Unless you drive The Peace Mobile.

You get out of work and shove more snow off your car, beat the crap out of the ice on your windshield and freeze for half the ride home because the car is ice.

February has an attitude because it is the shortest month of the year. It is filled with resentment.

Take a look at the calendar this year. February is one solid block. Four seven day weeks stacked on top of one another.

The month started on a Sunday, it will end on a Saturday. No dribble, no overhang - it is one solid square of a nasty, cold, evil run of 28 vicious, spiteful days.

February is a goddamn test. It tests your January resolve.

"Oh, yeah? You got good intentions? Let's see how they hold up against me, baby."

February is a goddamn lie detector. "Oh, yeah - you say the snow is so pretty? Let's see how you  feel on 2/28, poseur."

February is a goddamn slippery month too. 28 days. Unless it is 29 days. You never know quite where you stand.

February is George Foreman delivering endless body blows, bruising ribs and sapping energy.

We are Muhammad Ali, doing the rope-a-dope until we have had enough. And then delivering a shocking knock out punch.

Screw you, February.