I have decided: when I am finally able to take over the world and become Really Nice Dictator in Charge of Everything, I shall abolish the month of February.

Why, you ask? I thought you might. For starters, Februarys are like Tuesdays. They’re useless. Monday is the start of the week, and since the week has to start somewhere, it might as well be Monday, right? Wednesdays, well, they’re the halfway marker in the work week. Thursdays, you’re almost there and Fridays are important because otherwise we’d all go around saying Thank God It’s.

Tuesdays, on the other hand, don’t serve any real purpose. Sure, you could say they’re a place holder of sorts, but personally,  I’d be just as happy to go directly to Wednesday, do not pass Go, etc.

It’s the same thing with February. The year starts with January, so that’s okay, and March, hey, spring is on it’s way! But February . . . February is just . . . there.

And my, how it lingers. Have you ever noticed that in spite of the fact that February is the shortest month of the year, it always feels like the longest? Why is that?

I have several theories. (You knew I would.) First of all, February is generally the month that Mother Nature reserves for her really big guns. Unless it’s an El Nino year, this is when she hauls out her recipes for things like: 28 Straight Days of Grey Skies, Skip the Shovel — I Need a Backhoe to Clean the Snow From My Driveway, and Oh My God, Does the Thermometer Really Say -42C?

So, yes, the weather is something less than ideal. Add to this the fact that February is about month number five of icky meteorology, and you start to understand why anyone in the vicinity of the Mason-Dixon line has a tendency to hysterical laughter at this time of year.

The monotony of winter doesn’t help much either. Inside, you have shuttered windows, closed doors and dark clothes. Outside, you have acres and acres of naked trees, white ground, dark skies, and grey buildings. Come to that, why are most buildings in the northern hemisphere coloured in … inspiring shades of brown or grey? In tropical countries, buildings are decorated nicely with pastels, loud patterns or art deco themes. Here, where we could actually use the visual stimulation, we stick to earth tones, or if we’re really original, white. Perhaps it’s because our architects start designing new homes in February and are just too depressed to experiment.

Another theory to consider is that February is holiday-free. We use January to recover from Christmas, and March has either spring break, Easter or both. Unless you count Groundhog Day and St. Valentine’s Day, there’s nothing special about February. And really, it’s a sad commentary on the state of our minds to think that we get excited about whether a beady-eyed rodent sees it’s shadow or not. Or that we are so ravenous for the sight of greenery, any greenery, that we pay upwards of $90 for a dozen roses . . .

Could scurvy still be a factor? Possibly. After all, the only fresh veggies we can get in our diet have to be imported — at exorbitant prices from smug countries south of the equator where the residents grow lemons in their back yards. Dry air? It’s a thought. I know the only thing preventing dehydration and freezer burn for me is frequent trips to the water cooler.

My favourite theory though, has to be this: in February, time actually slows down. I mean it. Sub-zero temperatures finally catch up with the space-time continuum and freeze it solid.

Want proof? Well, just think how long it seems to get through the day at work. Doesn’t a simple trip in the car to the next town seem to take years? Aren’t you sure, when you turn on the TV, that they’ve been playing Seinfeld reruns forever? Try it — the next time you have a magnifying glass handy, check out your watch. I guarantee you will see little Jack Frost pulling back on the second hand indicator.

I think, subconsciously, we all know this to be true. Why else would all our winters sports involve speed, otherwise? Think of it. Skiing: hurtling down a hill on two sticks. Snowboarding: hurtling down a hill on one stick. Tobogganing: hurtling down a hill in a sled. Speed skating: hurtling down the ice on two blades. Ice hockey: hurtling down the ice and mashing your opponent into the boards.

Yes folks. Anything to get the blood flowing. The only other alternative is to join the squirrels in hibernation.

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