There are weeks when writing a column is easy. Too easy, in fact. News piles up, people behave badly, council meetings go sideways, and suddenly there are more ideas than available column inches.
Then there are weeks like this one.
This week, I simply don’t want to write.
Not because nothing happened. Quite the opposite. The problem is that I’m cranky, and when a person is cranky, everything feels like material for a complaint. Frankly, I don’t think anyone wants to read five hundred words of an adult tantrum about potholes, rude drivers, and grocery prices that now require a small loan application.
Although, between us, the potholes are impressive this year.
I blame the weather. Entirely. Fully. Without hesitation.
Spring has apparently forgotten Nova Scotia exists. We’ve had enough grey skies, cold rain, damp wind, and fog to make even the most cheerful person stare suspiciously at the calendar. Somewhere, there are people wearing shorts and sitting on patios. Meanwhile, the rest of us are still debating whether we need the winter coat or merely the “lighter depressing jacket.”
I wait all winter for warm weather. It’s the reward system that gets many of us through February. We endure snowbanks, frozen windshields, and darkness at 4:30 in the afternoon because we believe summer will eventually arrive. And when spring decides to act like an extension of November, morale begins to wobble.
You can see it everywhere.
People absolutely behave differently depending on the weather. Anyone who works with the public knows this. Sunshine arrives and suddenly everyone is polite, patient, and calling you “dear.” Three straight weeks of drizzle, and people start reacting to minor inconveniences as though they are auditioning for a reality television meltdown.
Unfortunately, crankiness is contagious.
Spend enough time around irritated people and eventually you find yourself becoming one of them. Suddenly the rude driver is not just mildly annoying but personally offensive. The customer service representative who provides no actual service becomes the final straw. The price of lettuce feels like a direct attack on your financial stability.
Even the grass seems aggressive.
I swear the weeds are growing fast enough that you can almost hear them. Every time I look outside, something else needs mowing, trimming, or fixing. Nature itself appears to be nagging me.
Now, intellectually, I know there are far worse problems in the world. We are fortunate compared to many places dealing with floods, fires, storms, and genuine disasters. We are not facing evacuation orders or extreme danger. I know all of that perfectly well.
Oddly enough, knowing there are worse situations does not magically improve my mood when it’s raining for the 19th-consecutive day.
So, what’s the solution?
Unfortunately, I do not think it involves hiding under the blankets until July. Tempting, yes. Practical, no.
The best I can come up with is awareness. If I know I’m cranky, then I also know it is my responsibility not to spread it around like some emotional second-hand smoke. Being irritated does not give me permission to ruin someone else’s day. The cashier, the server, the neighbour, and the stranger in traffic are all probably fighting their own battle with this endless gloomy spring.
Sometimes the only thing to do is grit your teeth, force a smile, and “fake it until you make it.”
And maybe – just maybe – the sun will come out tomorrow.