a tad sad

"Do you suffer from SAD?"

The question was asked by my oldest son after I told him that I had some Saturday chores to do, but wanted to get them all done before dark on a cold January weekend. An almost tongue in cheek question, but a subject he said had been discussed to some extent in one of his classes. As a matter of fact, a dear, dear friend of mine (who I have never seen nearly often enough!!) and I had talked quite a bit about SAD and its effects last winter. She is quite prone to it, and we often weighed the relative benefits of food, exercise, lights and the like in relieving the associated withering of the soul in winter--or at least what sometimes felt like that!

I told him, though, that I have come to believe that I suffer more from TAD--temperature affective disorder. [Not a real thing, as far as I know!] Although I bemoan the Darktime, I actually, in many ways, have always relished the introspection it promotes: time to curl up on the couch with a quilt and a good book, or learn and work on a new craft, bake to heat up the kitchen. What I really don't enjoy is the still constant pull of life on my Darktime. If I could just "hibernate," ball up and forget the outside world except for the occasional darktime walk to look at stars or Christmas lights, winter would still be my favorite season, as it had once been.

Instead, I have to get groceries, pick up and drop off for practices, rehearsals, matches, meets and games, attend volunteer meetings, and whatever else shows up on my calendar. Don't get me wrong; these are all things I normally enjoy (yes, even grocery shopping), but in the winter, they pose much more of a burden for me. For a long time, it was easiest to understand that this was due to the lack of light in the evenings, but, at that moment that he asked the question, I realized it's not just light. [The seed for this whole musing was planted on the first Sunday of Advent, with a homily about bringing light, and the Advent wreath, and the winter solstice. Quite a beautiful set of thoughts and explanations.....]

What gets me is the cold. The drafts in our old, old house. The tips of my toes being icy from the moment the sun sets until sometime in the night, in my sleep. The chill on my elbows as I type, no matter how many layers I wear, or where I situate myself in the house. I told my son that day that every winter, about this time, I start to think about moving to a nice, tight, draftless condo nearby, where we wouldn't have to worry about the yard or the outside maintenance any longer; but, more specifically, I would be warm in the winter. At least that's what I try to tell myself, until the thought of even considering packing and moving starts to get me depressed and overwhelmed!

Then I kind of laughed to myself, remembering a statement made at our family reunion when it was held in Arizona (a place I loved, and would, possibly, someday, be thrilled to live!): "It's a dry heat: like an oven!" You see, I don't think the cold I feel is entirely related to the draftiness or the outside temperature. I think, bottom line, the cold is related to the dark. It's a big, wide spiral, and as long as I can share my quilt--and my icicle toes--with someone I love, keep a sense of humor, and seek the joy on the edges of the longer and longer days with my family and friends, I'll be fine in the long run.

In the meantime, I think it's time for some baking.

a special psa

Yesterday, I hit a wall. I have a job that I really do enjoy most aspects of. There is always something that throws a monkey wrench into every job, and yesterday the whole hardware store seemed to be involved. Worse, it was a day off, and still the wrenches kept coming.

My job is in the Make People Happy sector, and, generally, that is what we manage to do. You may be surprised at how bending over to pick up a few straw wrappers and fruit slices can make people on an average day. Lately, however, the days have been far from average.

Above average temperatures have pushed most everyone to their limits. Working outside in the heat is one of the sacrifices we make to do our job, and we grumble about it, but only amongst ourselves. I am also honest about it: when people ask how I am doing, I flat out say, "I'm hot and sometimes cranky." They laugh, I laugh, and we move on about our business.

Please remember that those working in the service and/or safety industries are there for your benefit, but not for your dumping. Yes, we are getting paid to smile sweetly at you, but that is not all we are doing. I am also hauling your trash, lugging buckets of slop, picking up after you and your children, sweeping up, mopping, washing, organizing, and trying to make my payroll. Not for the money I make, either, but because I know how important it is for you to enjoy your visit. I cannot control the temperature of the air, the ground, your beer, and to a certain extent, the water around you. I cannot control the behavior of those around you, either. I can (and do!) address behaviors that have a negative effect on the overall environment, but I cannot do that before the fact. I was not hired to read minds, which is a good thing, because I missed that class.

Yesterday, I heard one more time that "this doesn't happen when Stephanie is here." Sure it does. Whatever "it" is. I trust those I have hired to do the job I expect of them when I am not there. You need to, as well. Your complaints, if you look at them rationally, are probably more due to the fact that you are "hot and sometimes cranky," too. The saying goes, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen." I'd like to propose that if you can't stand how hot it is outside, you should find someplace air conditioned. Then let us do our (outside) job.