T.S. Eliot was totally full of it: anyone who’s lived in Minnesota knows that February is the cruelest month. February comes in bitterly cold, carrying the leftovers of January’s winds. Then, around the middle of the month, there’s a freak thaw; the temperature shoots up over the melting point, and the light from the sun feels warm again, less bright and sharp than usual. February’s a tease, though, and almost as quickly as you can crack a window, it shuts you down again with a fresh layer of snow and ice, burying you for at least another month.

I don’t know if it’s the cold, or the light, or what, but every February, I have a single, overriding urge, and that is to sleep. It’s like I’m secretly a bear or something; a small, thin, hairless bear that wants desperately to hibernate. I don’t want to play video games, or watch TV, or write in this weblog, or read for class; I certainly don’t want to look for work, which is what I’ve been trying (and mostly failing) to do lately. I just want to take a nice, 14-hour nap. Is that too much to ask, especially in February?

This whining is all really just an excuse for a placeholder post: I’ve been trying to be better about posting every weeknight, and I have like three different topics I’d like to write about, but I just can’t work up the energy right now. I’m just going to go to bed, get up in the morning (or the afternoon), maybe work on some query letters, and hopefully have something less lame to post here tomorrow night.