It's that time of year again ... the days are getting shorter, the temperature is dropping, and my metabolism has begun the inevitable slow decline that late Fall/Winter invariably brings.
An insidious lethargy sets in. Crawling out of bed is like trying to escape the grasp of quicksand, and I find myself stumbling through the day in a kind of grumpy daze.
Then there's the weight gain - the winter insulation that seems to creep up on me when my back's turned. Every year, five or six pounds that appear in Nov. or Dec., that I carry around until Spring, when without any effort on my part they melt away like snowbanks in the sun.
It would be annoying if I could muster the energy to be pissed about it.
I suppose it's a classic case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I've got to remember to use my full-spectrum lamp, try to get outdoors and go for a walk, force myself to ignore the sirensong of carbohydrates.
I must have been a bear in a previous incarnation ... it would explain this residual instinct to hibernate.