sad is bad but plaid is badass

This past week I got pelted in the face during our rec-league dodgeball game. Thankfully, I had already been hit out by another ball so I had the luxury of sauntering off to the sidelines until I could see out of my right eyeball. This is not the first time it's happened, and anyone who's played the sport knows that it's what you sign up for. I also managed to slip on ice while walking the dog warranting a pretty blue bruise I wear like a ribbon on my knee. And that cut you see on my lip is not herpes, it's from biting it during a violent dream. Seriously, in my sleep.

Lately it also seems I've been emotionally drained. Just when I think I've finally gained control of my mood, some small 'crisis' happens and I have a meltdown as if they just canceled all current and future seasons of The Bachelor. yikes. And no, gentlemen, I'm not PMSing.

Mavis is angry

I'm a klutz on any normal day but I honestly feel like my inside is matching my outside. Battered and bruised. C'mon though, I know I'm not alone.

Now, living in Ottawa during the winter is going to come with it's own set of obstacles, frozen fingers and toes, cars that don't start and a Facebook newsfeed reminding you how cold it is and to also shut up about how cold it is. These things are shitty. Shitty, but bearable. What's a little harder to navigate is something called the 'winter blues', medically known as S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Basically, in an acorn shell, you get damn depressed. That's it, I'm self-diagnosing this.

So how does one overcome such sadness?

I google'd this and wasn't surprised by the 'home remedies' suggested to cure S.A.D. Eat better, exercise, take a vacation blah blah bloppity blah. ah boom blop bah boom ah blop boom bah!

Sorry, got carried away there. But honestly, how boring. Let's go drink Earl Grey tea and sit in the parlor cracking algebra jokes.

Why can't there be any fun cures? You never read 'roll down a hill with your friends then have a cheese curd eating contest (RIP St. Alberts) in the treatment section of WebMD.  Or rotisserie a pie over an open fire then share stories with the hobos who let you borrow their flaming trash can to begin with. I'm pretty sure that would cure my winter blues.

Point being, I think those boring 'cures' (or routines) for some, are what might have landed us in this gosh diggly mess in the first place. It may take some time for my cuts to heal but I'm already feeling better thinking about which one of my friends would win the cheese eating contest, or which story I would tell to try and shock a hobo.

And since I'm already life's personal punching bag this week:
Slap me with some crazy and creative ideas of what you would do to get out of your winter tire rut. And it better not involve tea.