After I hit the snooze button six times this morning, my exasperated alarm clock greeted me with this statement: "Punxsutawney Phil has indeed predicted that there will be six more weeks of winter." My first thought was, "What winter?" I have yet to experience my first magical snowfall of the season, and seeing as we're already in February and it hasn't happened yet, this winter is dead to me. I don't care what the all-knowing groundhog says.
A few weeks ago I was browsing through channels (probably waiting for a basketball game to start) and came across one of the classics of film, Groundhog Day. Tyrel used to make sure we watched this every year on February 2, just like he made sure we watched Independence Day on July 4. Though none of us have literally had to relive the same dreary day over and over and over again, I'm sure we can all relate to that helpless feeling that tries to tell you that winter, the work day, school, or a particular struggle is never going to end.
However, there are some experiences that I don't mind reliving day after day, year after year. For example . . .
I usually succumb to that itch I get about every 15 months to read Harry Potter again.
Once a book makes it to my favorites list, the thought of never reading it again is too depressing.
I've seen every episode of Gilmore Girls, er, more than once, and the dialogue still kills me.
The transition to fall is always magical.
Holidays, particularly the 4th of July, Labor Day, General Conference, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, wouldn't be nearly as special if we didn't get to revisit them every year.
Weekends. Need I say more?
Kimberly and I use the same strategies every time we play Risk or Star Wars Monopoly. And we never get bored.
So, uh, happy Groundhog Day, everyone! Since I'm boycotting winter, I've decided to celebrate this inane holiday by pondering the happy side of repetitiveness rather than injure my brain trying to wrap my mind around the idea that if the sun is out, clearly that means more winter.