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That’s what winter begins to feel like after a while. In a place where we experience four distinct seasons, this season is my least favorite. Even so, I’m always taken off guard when the winter blues kick into full gear. It brings out the fight in me…like a wrestler on the verge of being pinned…but I don’t want to submit.

So I refuse. I lift my shoulders off the ground and fight back with all I’ve got.

That’s what you do when you don’t have Icelandic blood coursing through your veins. Those fortunate souls appear to have a genetic exemption from such nonsense according to one study done on winter time depression in the late 1800’s. You fight or you cave in to the darkness. If you’re lucky, you get to hibernate. But that’s not really an option for us, is it? As passionately as I believe it should be.

The simple truth is that winter here has not been brutal. And yet…the intensity of my winter time blues has been.

To wrestle myself out of submission, I moved the furniture.

One of the most influential ladies in my life told me how powerfully effective such a re-arrangement could be but that is another story entirely.

While unwinding after work around 3 a.m. or so, I came across an article that caught my eye. It drew me right in.  After reading it,  I felt hopeful. I wish I could find it again to share but here is something very similar: DIY

The reason it made all the sense in the world to me is that I had re-arranged our living room a few months ago to take advantage of vertical space. The change didn’t make me jump for joy but it did suit the purpose. Isn’t it strange how we can move things around for years and then one day, it all seems so right?  The position of everything somehow feels permanent and you could just die happy? I un-did that permanent thing that had worked for so long.

After reading the article, I re-arranged the living room once again to something that felt more permanent. Something that made me happy. I got really enthusiastic about the process and moved into the bedroom. I removed the storage containers kept underneath my bed. The love of my life helped me move things, all the while, refraining from laughter. But I could see the laughter in his eye.

“Feng Shui?” he asked.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“But hush. We’re supposed to have better quality of sleep when there is nothing stored under the bed. You don’t always sleep so well.  And do you really ever look into that mirror? Because I’m going to hang art there instead…”

Breezy also removed every piece of her great-grandmother’s luggage she had stored underneath her bed when we got home from work in the wee hours in an act of blind faith.  She understands me enough that she never requires an explanation for inexplicable things.

I woke up today feeling awesome. Completely rested.

I spotted Breezy.  “Did you sleep better?” I asked her.

“I slept completely sound until I woke. I didn’t even hear Donovan come in to take the weights out of my room,” she answered.

“Me, too!!” I told her. “But then again…it was cloudy and it rained. But I’m going with the Feng Shui.”

And so we agreed.

But it was 7 year old Alex who sealed the deal when she walked into the house after school.

“I love this!” she said of the living room arrangement.

“There’s so much room to dance!”

And that…had absolutely nothing to do with vitamin D…or lack, thereof…or anything pertaining to meteorology.