Seasonal Ineffective Disorder

I have always acknowledged that I might possibly be somewhat...unusual. Specifically, it has long been my belief that a genetic anomaly accidentally bestowed upon me the DNA sequence of a homo sapiens designed to function at optimal levels during an Ice Age.

Seriously. I love winter. I love it. I love when the temperatures dip into the 30s (F, of course). I love snow. I even like winter rain. I'm happiest when ensconced on the sofa in sweats and fuzzy socks with a blanket over my legs, hot coffee in my hands, and a huge, furry dog sprawled across my lap. It is at those times, my friends, when I am in my perfect element. It's when the temperature begin to climb out of the 60s that my version of the blues kick in. As the heat rises, so does my grumpy factor, while my productivity plummets.

Take right now, for instance. At the moment, I should be pounding away at the latest novel in the Others series, a saucy little story of love, mountain lions, and murder. Instead, I am locked in the one air conditioned room of the house with two dogs, my laptop, and a vat of iced coffee, praying to the gods of weather that they please send a huge blast of arctic air swirling down from Canada. Fast.

I acknowledge that this attitude places me in the minority. Most people seem to yearn for summer, to worship the sun, to adore the chance to bask in the heat. Well, to each their own. Personally, as a fair-skinned redhead, I run screaming from sunlight, even after a generous application of SPF 45. Even in my own home, I'm almost outnumbered. Hannah and her dog love the warm weather. Until my puppy came home to live with us, it was definitely 2-to-1 around here. Now, at least the puppy gets me. Of course, he happens to be wearing a permanent thick and curly fur coat, but I'll take all the support I can get.

Anyway, the point is that it's barely past Memorial Day, and I'm already wishing it were time for Halloween. And given my current lack of productivity, I'm betting my editor is, too!