The February face–it sums up this ugly little stub of a month to a tee. (And the speaker of these lines isn’t even a flat-out evil character! Hooray for consequence-free context!)
Why, what’s the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?
–William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, Act 5, Scene 4
(Of course, now that I’ve celebrated freedom from consequences, I’m sure to find out that the subtext of this passage is that Don Pedro likes to juggle puppies and eat raw goldfish, and didn’t I learn that in all my years of having my head up Shakespeare’s supremely significant ass? Just like how, in my excitement about Harper Lee’s new book, I didn’t anticipate that the publication might have been set up by Lee’s manipulative lawyer, who may have conned a senile Lee into signing over her first manuscript after her 103-year-old sister, who’d been protecting Lee’s literary legacy, died less than three months ago. Yes, the God of Stories gives, but the God of Painful Irony often loves dunking that gift in rancid mayonnaise and horse manure and seeing how long it takes you to start sobbing from the shame of it all…)