I’m S.A.D.

Well, that furry little groundhog popped his head out of his hole yesterday and saw his shadow.

 

“You know what that means,” I told my husband yesterday afternoon, “For six more weeks, I will be afflicted with S.A.D.”

 

“You mean Seasonal Affective Disorder?” he remarked. “I heard that means you have something wrong with your pineal gland,” he remarked from the other room.

 

“Watch your mouth!” I said as I peered around the corner and gasped, “Where did you find that sun lamp?”

 

“Right next to the box of eight-track tapes in the storage room,” he replied as he adjusted his little tanning glasses on his eyes and laid his head on the end table, directly under the ultraviolet rays. “By the way, I never knew you liked Grand Funk Railroad.”

 

“These lamps are really bad for you,” I said as I grabbed his sunglasses and pushed his head aside.  “Now move over and let me catch some of that fake sun!”

 

I adjusted the glasses over my eyes and sighed, “I heard people in Iceland and Switzerland are happier than those who live in warmer climates.”

 

“They’re happy every day they wake up and they’re not frozen to the bed!” my husband replied as he adjusted the floor lamp shade so light poured down on his face.

 

“It’s been cloudy for 96 days straight,” I grumbled.

 

“Feel my forehead,” my husband said, “I think I have cabin fever.”

 

I laid my palm on his cheek.  “You do feel a little warm,” I commented, “Do you have any of the other symptoms like boredom, irritability and sleep loss?”  I stopped for a moment and thought about what I just said and then added, “Let me rephrase that sentence – do you have those symptoms any more than a regular day?”

 

“Very funny,” he remarked.  “Yes, I’ve heard that a lack of social activity causes cabin fever too.”

 

“Good try,” I laughed.  “Why don’t you try some St. John’s wort?”

 

“I bet your pardon!” he said, “I do NOT have worts!”

 

“St John’s wort is a herb derived from the daisy flower family,” I corrected him.

 

“Wow, the mention of those eight-track tapes really took you back to your life during the 70s, didn’t it?” he replied as he turned off the floor lamp.

 

“I see now it’s your turn to be funny,” I answered sarcastically and then continued on, “Listen, I’ve been doing a lot of research on winter blues and the experts say we can combat these feelings with diet and exercise while decreasing our intake of caffeine and alcohol.”

 

“CAFFEINE AND ALCOHOL ARE THE ONLY WAYS I’VE BEEN ABLE TO GET THROUGH THE LAST THREE MONTHS!” my husband yelled, “AND I’M SICK OF FRUITS AND VEGETABLES!”

 

I put my coat on. 

 

“Where are you going?” he asked.

 

“I’ll be back in 10 minutes with a cure no doctor would dream of writing a prescription for,” I giggled.

 

A few minutes later, I crept into the kitchen and pulled my “medicine” out of a brown paper bag and carried it into the living room where he sat catatonically staring at the wall.

 

“Look what I have!” I sang.

 

I placed a carton of Turtle Surprise ice cream on the coffee table and pulled two spoons out of my pocket.

 

“Oh my gosh,” he exclaimed, “I feel better already!”

 

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in two months,” I said as I pulled the lid off the ice cream and dug in with my spoon.

 

“Whatever it takes to chase away the winter blues,” he smiled as he took a huge bite of frosty deliciousness.

 

Seconds later, he threw his spoon down, grabbed his head and screamed, “OH-MY-GOD!  ICE CREAM HEADACHE!”

 

It’s going to be a long six weeks.

 

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About Vicky DeCoster

Award-winning humor writer Vicky DeCoster is the author of "From Diapers to Dorkville," "Husbands, Hot Flashes, and All That Hullabaloo!" and "The Wacky World of Womanhood." She has been published in over 60 magazines, books, and on several web sites. Vicky lives in Nebraska with her husband and two children where she loves to laugh every day. Visit her at www.wackywomanhood.com.
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