November is upon us and I’ve got to be honest: I started feeling the twang of Novemberitis around the second week in October. What is it about this time of year that squishes me into a ball of uselessness? I mean, really. I’m enthusiastic about the upcoming year. I’ve got some ideas swimming around. Some old. Some new. And yet here I am, half falling asleep, feeling guilty about skipping NaNoWriMo this year, and wondering if another nap is actually going to help me feel “more refreshed and capable” in the long run. I hate November. Hate it, hate it, hate it. And yet I am quite aware of how ridiculous that is. Novemberitis isn’t a thing! It’s nonsense. Just because you get hit with a bucket of the blues every single time this ungodly month comes around doesn’t mean anything! Does it?
Honestly I have no idea…
What I do know though is that I somehow have to snap out of it. The only thing keeping me going at this point is our trip to…hmmm….where are we going again? Somewhere outside of Grahamstown. Hlosi? Is that a place? I don’t know how game farms work… I should probably look that up before we set off on Friday.
The (sort of) point is that Novemberitis has me in its death grip this year. It’s pretty bad. A part of me is ashamed of it, but then another part knows that sometimes “the dumps” happen.
Is there anything I can do? It’s kind of too late now, but maybe I should try and “do” something about it for next year. Maybe plan a trip. A road trip maybe. The weather is a little windy this time of year, but that’s ok, isn’t it? And spring is pretty. Although…September and October are prettier. November is just this limbo month where the swimming pools are all still too cold to jump into and the heat is yuck.
And Christmas is coming.
I hate November.