'Matter of Laugh or Death,' a humor column
By Bill Dunn
Interesting observations on this thing we call life
(appearing each week in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT)
IT’S A S.A.D. TIME OF YEAR
The days are growing shorter, and that ol’ north wind is sending its icy fingers up our spines. This can only mean one thing: that ol’ north wind had better keep its hands to itself or I’m calling the cops. No wait, my mistake. It means winter is coming.
And when I say winter, I don’t mean just any old winter; I mean a New England winter. Sure, other parts of the country get more snow than we do. Other parts of the country endure less sunlight. Other parts of the country have lower temperatures than we have. But it doesn’t matter. A New England winter is the harshest kind of winter for one simple reason: New England is the place where my wife experiences winter.
My wife enjoys winter about as much as Mel Gibson enjoys being invited to a Bar Mitzvah. About as much as Nancy Pelosi enjoys going to a Tea Party rally. About as much as Jim Calhoun enjoys being investigated by the NCAA. About as much as Rush Limbaugh enjoys going to a rap concert. About as much as area newspaper readers enjoy yet another tedious list of “about as much as” comments.
I’m not a big fan of winter either, but compared to my wife, I’m like the marketing director for a Vermont ski resort, with the words “Think Snow!” and a happy face symbol tattooed to my forehead.
The main problem for my wife is the lack of sunshine during winter. Driving to work in the morning when the sun hasn’t come up yet, and then driving home from work in the evening when the sun has already set, is quite depressing for her. Maybe she has SAD (“Seasonal affective disorder”), a condition which is now officially recognize by medical professionals. Or maybe she has ISATOTFCADWSWISGTCFCOL? (“I’m sick and tired of the frickin’ cold and dark weather so when is spring going to come for crying out loud?”), a condition which is now officially recognized by TDIFDA (“The Dunn Institute for Dopey Acronyms”).
I’m trying to look on the bright side here—which, admittedly, is tough when it’s always dark outside. There actually are some good things about winter. You just have to look hard to find them.
So just keep reminding yourself: spring is right around the corner, only 17 weeks away. Seventeen long, tedious, dreary, painful, depressing weeks away. Um, yeah. I think I just gave myself a dose of SAD.
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