Not because of the weather. Really. I like snow (not that we've had any this year, which sucks) and I don't mind the cold (which it has been VERY). So my eyeballs freeze when I step outside. Big deal. They thaw when I go back inside. So my lungs crystallize when I breathe outside. Ain't no thing since they melt when I inhale inside.
I don't mind the dark. I just put lights on. I don't mind the chill in the house. I just put the heat up. Or make a fire in the fireplace. Or turn the pellet stove on. Or wear wool socks.
I don't even mind when I fall down on the ice. It's funny that I'm a weenie.
No, I hate winter because of the mutant germs that seem to survive in cold far better than they do in the miserable humidity of summer.
Lemony Brother is sick. Puking. Home from school. Again. And because I'm such a good mother I'm feeling cranky about it because I have not had a day alone in this house, not even an HOUR alone in this house, since before Christmas. Between school holidays and sick kids and finals and half-days and Mr. Lemony's office closing down because of a Norovirus outbreak, somebody has been here all.the.time.
And February vacation is coming up in like two weeks, so it's not looking good for me until about, oh, July.
I'm going to hell, I know, because what kind of mother gets cranky on a Thursday when her kid wakes up puking? What kind of mother says, "Are you kidding me? I had PLANS today! Today was the day I was supposed to finally get some time to do something NOT for anybody else."
Yep. Hell, here I come.
At least it's never winter there.