I’ve never been a fan of winter. The dark. The cold. And a lot of inside time.
Yes, I understand winter is necessary. The circle of life and all that.
I know that it is just a matter of time before my overly enthusiastic crocuses emerge from the soil only to get frozen by a late winter storm. I’m confident that the nasty grey snow will melt away and the potholes created by the thaw will be eventually filled in by the city. And then soon after, my beloved will turn on the outdoor shower and all will be right in the world.
In the meantime, the days are short and the nights are long. My feet require gallons of heavy-duty cream so they don’t crack, my hair looks ridiculous because it is full of static electricity when I take off my hat, and my energy barometer is dangerously close to empty.
Everywhere I look inside my house there are productive things to do. I think about how it will feel when I can check them off my list, however, I can’t summon the will to get started. Papers from 2011 that I saved because I was convinced that I was going to need them. Clothes that should be folded and donated to Goodwill. Drawers that must be emptied so that they can close without the extra hip shove.
But yet I find myself procrastagramming.
Scrolling through my Instagram feed with rapt attention. Curious if there really is a chewiness difference between the chocolate chip cookies that use dough that was chilled vs. the ones that are made at room temperature. Wondering if Timothee Chalemet does anything without a camera focused on capturing him in a candid, adorable moment. And questioning if AI created the post of the boring guy I knew in college who has become a multi-zillionaire. It is hard to believe that’s him racing down the mountain in a skin-tight, high-performance, tomato-red ski suit in Zermatt, Switzerland with his picture-perfect family.
Alas, procrastagramming is like Chinese food. It fills you up in the short term but leaves you empty thirty minutes later.
So now what do I do?
I find myself blindly looking into the distance and pondering really important questions like:
Do people born on February 29th only have a birthday every 4 years?
Why is it that noses run and feet smell?
Would Apple have been as successful of a company if Steve Jobs had named it Grapefruit?
Why did Pantone choose peach fuzz as the color of the year?
And, are you a fountain or a drain?
Hmm. That last one seems worthy of deeper contemplation. My sister and brother-in-law shared that question with me over the holidays and at the time, I shoved it in my overstuffed drawers. I guess now is as good a time as any to pull it out.
On the surface, it seems straightforward. Fountains nurture and drains drain. Fountains enrich us with life-affirming energy. Drains suck the life out of us and send us down dark stinky sewer holes.
But how do you know which one you are?
Take out a piece of paper and write down the names of 10 people you spend a lot of time with. Friends, family, co-workers, your boss, the person at the gym exercising next to you on the elliptical. Don’t overthink it. These people have to be one or the other - a fountain or a drain. You can’t say that someone is both. And no, you can’t include your pets or your stuffed animals.
Now think about why you put them in those categories.
Do your interactions with the “Drains” leave you feeling tired? Do you avoid interacting with them like the neighbor you hide from on Sunday night when you take out the garbage?
Do conversations with the “Fountains” make you feel energized? Do you look forward to seeing them on a Zoom call? Are you excited when you get a ping from them on your text feed?
Consider the characteristics of the “Drains”. Are they negative? Focused on themselves? Have trouble seeing the positive? And are your “Fountains” open, collaborative, thoughtful, and empathetic?
Now it’s time for the reckoning!
Which one are you? Be honest with yourself.
I looked at my list and then in the mirror. This time of year, it’s not a pretty picture. Cracked feet, static hair, grouchy demeanor.
I’m a drain.
The better question is which one would you rather be?
Where there is a will, there is a way.
I’m going to put down my phone, shake off my winter blues, and look to become a fountain.
Overstuffed drawers, I’m coming for you.
How about you?
Good/helpful perspective, Marji. And when did you change the name of your Substack blog? Think I missed that memo... 😉