I wanted so badly to call this “The Season of the Nap”, but I’d be lying to myself because I take naps regardless of what season it is.

There’s something about single digit temperatures and exceedingly bad weeks at work (the details of which I cannot, and wouldn’t want to, go into here) that come together and make me want to hibernate forever. Take today as a strong example. Work happened in the most glorious, horrible, unfortunate way any work-day could. Lousy, near-but-not-quite white-out conditions started up before my drive home, during which I slid down most of the one bridge-hill that makes up part of 17th Street (who thought this was a good idea, because it was the opposite of a good idea), and my nap that I shouldn’t have taken (I admit this) left me feeling worse than before I went to sleep. However, I’m still writing words on my blog so I feel validated in my decision to go forward with this Hundred Days of Blogging 2.0, before I start work on a new short story idea.

I actually considered updating my LinkedIn account because that’s how unmotivated I am to focus on creating stories right now. I have a novel-in-progress, multiple novels on hold, and several short story ideas that deserve attention. The litter boxes also require my attention, but there has never been a point when I sprang from the comfort of my chair to take care of such a chore. Anyway, here we are. With me not giving a single damn about tonight. Harrumph grumble complain.

How do you folks deal with nights like this one? Or do you just accept that the Winter infects all it touches with the bitterness of its icy tendrils, wrap yourselves in blankets, and refuse to emerge until the warmth of Spring?