I hate winter.
I was thinking today about what warm location the hubby and I could move to when we’re old and gray. The cold is getting to me. Indiana isn’t the best place to be in January. Cold. Damp. Sunshine is non-existent. Is it any wonder so many Hoosiers have seasonal affective disorder?
On a more pleasant note, I really like my second semester classes. Seeing mostly seniors might be the reason the January blahs have hit me so hard. These kids know the home stretch is getting near, but in the cold of winter, graduation still seems so very far away. I think I’m an emotional “borrower.” What the people around me feel, I tend to feel. And right now, I’m borrowing their frustration.
I am working on two stories right now. One is about a faith healer and a reporter. It’s sweet and calls to me on many levels, but I think I’ve been flirting with it for far too long. I need to focus. The second of the Amazon series is going well, but I don’t feel pressure to finish it by a certain date. I’m not sure that’s a good thing. I’m finding I work better under pressure. When I was trying to fnish The Reluctant Amazon for Golden Heart competition, I fretted over getting it done in time. That made me vigilant and kept me on my toes. Perhaps I need a little intensity in my life for motivation. Perhaps I need something to aim for to get moving.
And perhaps February will be warmer.