You know what my least favorite month of the year is?
You know why?
It's not because it's generally the wintriest month-though that fact is trying my patience a bit right now. (Heavy snowfall is no longer more than a mild inconvenience to my household, ever since my dad bought himself a riding snowblower. We don't even have to rely on the neighbor bringing over his tractor with a snow plow anymore.)
First off, the name. "February" is an eternal source of frustration to young children, just like "library," and for the exact same reason.
Second off, and much more importantly, is that whenever somebody chooses a month for some kind of special cause-remembering black history, women's heart health, and who knows what the heck else-nothing comes to mind-it seems like it's always February that gets it.
Why? What's so darned special about February?
Is it because of St. Valentine's Day? Because that's a dumb reason. (Fun fact-Valentine's Day is a day not of celebration of romantic and other love in Japan-for them, that's Christmas-it's a day of personal sexual devotion.)
I hereby move that February be declared "Everything Ever Awareness Month." That'll save us all a lot of time, and it'll free up the other months to just be themselves again.