Whatever. That seems to be the dominant emotion of February, at least in my world. I’m sick? Whatever [eyeroll]. I have a bunch of essays to grade and I’m getting a bunch more on Friday? Whatever. There was a sub when I was out sick and so no one got anything actually done on their writing? Whatever. (Actually, that one elicited a little more of a grumble-ugh). There’s only 15 days left in the trimester? Whatever [oh jeez that’s actually kind of scary].

“Mom, can I watch a movie?” *looks at time* Whatever, sure. “Dad? Can we go to a guitar shop so I can get some new strings (to replace the broken one)? Sure, whatever. “Can we open another box of Girl Scout Cookies?” Sure, whatever. “But I don’t like the kind that is open! Can I open Peanut Butter Patties?” *grumble* Sure, whatever.

It’s like the zeitgeist for February, at least so far. It’s a shrug in verbal form. I’m pretty sure the kids will start to take advantage of it soon if they haven’t already.

A mix of vitamin D deficiency, two months of various illnesses in the household, and short, dark, cold days contributes to the meh-ness. Having dried-out hands from over-washing that crack and even bleed contributes. Terrible news stories all over doesn’t help anything. There’s no motivation, no hope, nothing. It’s not sad or anything; it’s just whatever.

I don’t really have a happy place to end today, but that’s ok. It’s not necessarily bad either. It’s just February and the weeks are getting long and the days are still short and it’s still cold and it will be for weeks still and groceries need to be gotten and bathrooms need to be cleaned and papers need to be graded and dishes need to be washed and laundry needs to be put away and everything is just pretty bleak and it probably will be for a while.

Maybe “whatever” is hopeful in a sense. Maybe it’s just letting things be when we need to. Everything in our culture is like DO THINGS. “Whatever” is our passive opposition to the constant harassment of DO THINGS. Maybe it’s our survival mode. Maybe it’s instinctual, meant to save us from overstimulation and stress. Maybe it’s our existential angst or basic northern stoicism.

I don’t know. Whatever.