Gaaarrrrrrhhhhhh.
That's the sound that came out of my mouth an hour after lunch. The dimness of mid-November sliced my pupils just so, making driving to my son's hair appointment a real drag.
"You should be a brown bear, Mama," I heard my son's eight-year-old voice rising from the back seat.
"I really need to hibernate," I said in sleepy tones made for bedtime.
"You could work off those thousand kilos like the bears do in the wintertime, Mama." The innocence of my son's insult made me giggle.
Giggle-gaaarrrrrrhhhhhh. There I went again.
Winter is made for hibernation. I claim we redefine the word productivity for the months' until we see the sun again. After all, how can we possibly be be as productive as the month's in which days are lighter?
