With snow on the ground, the holidays around the corner, and only seven working days left in the year, I should be in a yee-haw! mood.

And I’m not.

For at least a week, I’ve had PMS or PMS-like symptoms — my breasts are tender, and my whole torso aches with tension. On Wednesday and Thursday I was near tears with frustration. I wonder when — or if — relief will come.

It was a boon to all that I was off on Friday.

Then, with the temperatures in the single digits, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything or go anywhere — not even to read something fun.

Saturday would have been more of the same except I did manage to drag myself to the stores, and J. came over before heading to work and took me to dinner. He arrived bearing gifts — a blue Egyptian cotton comforter set and skirt. Between it and the Vellux blanket, I can’t complain about the cold — in fact, I haven’t even had to turn on the radiators.

Sunday was mostly more of the same. I gave into the mood and slept half the day away, having weird dreams about stairwell traps and Trickster. Finally, I had driven myself stir crazy and made a trip to the store and Bonjour. Not unusually for me, I’m regretting that I didn’t  have it in me to do anything until it was almost Monday — and too late.

How irrational is my mood? Earlier in the week, the wind knocked over two of the lighted wire deer in the garden, and seeing these mere contraptions lying there helpless until the maintenance people set them right upset me almost as much as if they had been living creatures felled by the storm. On Sunday, I was startled and disturbed to see the lobsters at Treasure Island in a different and more prominent place where I couldn’t miss them. I wish Treasure Island would follow the lead of Whole Foods and stop selling live lobsters.

Yes, I’m upset about seeing fallen wire deer and trapped, doomed lobsters.

As I was walking home and reflecting on how self-absorbed all of this is, it occurred to me that this is one of the effects of the colder weather on me. I get out and see people less and turn inward more. It’s not the shortness and gloominess of the days that depress me; it’s the sense of being confined, alone, and lonely. Social activities aren’t always accessible, affordable, or practical. I crave intellectual stimulation, but want mostly to eat carbohydrates, sleep, and wait out the four or more long months until the warmer weather arrives, and once again I feel human.

At least for a while.