The calendar’s awkward middle child: too short for a real season, too long for a holiday, and just gloomy enough to make you question every life choice since New Year’s.
The calendar’s awkward middle child: too short for a real season, too long for a holiday, and just gloomy enough to make you question every life choice since New Year’s.
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The season of love that arrives right after the season of regret and right before the season of tax panic.
The brief window where Groundhog Day decides your fate, the Super Bowl decides your Sunday, and the calendar decides you’ve had enough winter already.
The month that gives you fewer days but more excuses for no productivity: it’s cold, it’s short, it’s Valentine’s, it’s the Super Bowl.
The shortest month that still manages to feel the longest thanks to endless Valentine’s hype, Super Bowl parties, and the cold realization that winter isn’t done with you yet.