blech

I hate February. It's my least favorite month of the entire year. It's cold. It's really really cold, at least for this part of the country, right now. I'm tired. I'm sniffly and my throat is scratchy, again. My daffodils are trying to bloom, though. Hope next week's predicted "wintry mix" doesn't kill the flower buds that have already formed. I transplanted about 200 dafodils from my backyard to the front, on either side of the driveway. If the flowers don't get too frozen, I'll have lots of pretty yellow flowers when our guests arrive for the party. Maybe they won't notice the paint peeling off the front of the house, but I kinda doubt that. The front faces south, where the sun bakes the paint off in no time flat. The rest of the exterior is fine, just the front needs a new coat of paint. DH won't pay anyone to do a job he can do himself, but when is he gonna do it? That is the question of the day, rather the year. The living room hasn't been painted since before we moved in seven years ago, though we bought the paint for it a couple years back. I started painting the wood paneling in the den last spring with a white glaze so the wood would still show through, didn't even finish two coats on one wall before I decided I hated it and never finished. The 50 year old linoleum in the den and kitchen looks... well, it looks like ugly 50-year old linoleum. Maybe I wouldn't hate this house so much if I hadn't grown up here and had such a miserable childhood. But it would still be in suburbia, my least favorite sort of place on Earth. I'd much rather live out in the country, in a tiny home with lots of land. My second choice would be in the city, downtown where I could walk anywhere I needed to go or jump on a bus. *sigh* 20 days until my 38th birthday, and I still haven't gotten my life in order. Maybe it's just not in me to ever grow up. I dyed my hair purple (again) yesterday, in hopes it would raise my spirits a little. I'm such a dork.