Stale marketing, short days, and people walking around like zombies. This is what I think of when someone mentions the month of February.
It’s finally March. I couldn’t be happier that February is behind us. The sun will be out longer. I can get back to figuring out how to get outside, and hopefully get rid of this case of S.A.D. Yes, my doctor says I may have Seasonal Affective Disorder.
Wut? Yeah, that’s what I said to my doc. As I’m telling him I have no energy, I can’t get motivated at the gym, and I think something’s wrong – he’s talking over me as doctors do (because they are way too important to actually listen). He’s says, “sounds like you have seasonal affective disorder. I see this a lot. Very common.” I’m like, “wut, are you calling me SAD? Hahaha, that’s your diagnosis?” He does not think my comment and laughing are funny at all. I’m a tiny-brained commoner who couldn’t possibly understand that he, as a primary care physician, spends his days saving countless lives, and his nights coming up with cures to humanity-ending diseases before they get out of control.
“Can I get a blood test anyway please?” He blows me off, leaves, and sends in the nurse to drain me of my peanut-M&M-filled blood.