It's winter, y'all. Holy God...if I'm not barefoot and wearing a t-shirt in another month I'm going to lose it.
At first winter is charming. You envision yourself curling up on the couch in a sweater, snuggling into your lover or the pages of a good book while the fire crackles (you've got a fireplace, right?). You revel in the idea of warm hot chocolate set against the chill wintry air.
Then comes the season itself, and you curse wildly every morning as you extract your naked body from the bed and set foot in the cold, cruel world where air conditioning is no match for the cold. Sure, you could heat your living space to a comfortable 80 degrees and live out the winter in climate-controlled bliss; you could also sign your winter month's wages over to the local electricity conglomerate, or pay off your bills by volunteering your time babysitting the CEO's kids on the weekends. I'm just saying.
So now I'm entertaining torrid fantasies of the summer. I see myself, out on the porch at night plucking at my guitar (I don't have one; it's part of the fantasy) and trying to keep the mosquitoes from carrying my blood away. I drink iced tea (I hate iced tea; but it's part of the fantasy) and talk long into the night with my neighbors (neighbors like Bob, who voluntarily patrols the complex parking lot, or Sausage Dog, the cylindrically-shaped mutt next door). It is bliss.
Sure, come week three of summer it, too, will seem like a hopeless chore. But for now, give me sun on my skin and the wind in my hair - the kind of wind that wont scrub my face off with sub-zero temperatures - and for a moment (just a moment) I wont complain.
Oh...and should you need distraction from the pain of winter, check out this freaking awesome photography, and feel sad that you didn't come up with this idea first. When you're done doing that, appreciate the simple beauty.