It will surprise no one who’s read this blog over the years to hear that winters are hard for me. Combine early sunsets, a night owl personality, a 9-5 job, and a below-ground apartment, and you’ve got a recipe for someone who’s struggling with Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Over the years, I developed a number of coping techniques that would take me from the post-holiday blues through the end of February. But I’ll admit that since COVID, a lot of those have gone out the window. I no longer leave the house for work, which means I’m not walking or riding my bike at Mach-1 first thing in the morning trying to get to the office on time. I used to have a couple nights of playing volleyball each week, but I scaled it back to just one for safety reasons and haven’t added a second night back in. All indoor activities are back to being potential super spreader events, which means if it’s too cold to sit outside (which it has been this week), I just don’t bother stopping at cafes or restaurants.

The good news is that as of this evening, the sun is back to setting after 5:30. And it will just get later and later. And after years of living with this, I know that if I’m just patient and wait it out, there will come a day that doesn’t seem bleak and exhausting.

In the meantime, I do have a variety of lights that are supposed to help with this time of year. None of them are currently plugged in, which probably feels like a step I could tackle this week. The Christmas tree should come down in the next couple days, but I could put some fairy lights up around the perimeter of the room to give it a pinky glow and replace the batteries on the ones that live in jars.

And tomorrow morning, we’re getting up a little early to go and see a taxidermied whistle pig prognosticate the state of our weather and political gridlock. It probably won’t cure the winter blues, but maybe he’ll offer the hope of an early spring.