WHAT'S HOT IN COLD CABIN FEVER REMEDIES

Right about now, those of us who aren’t moose, Bode Miller or trees, have spent more time in the last two months inside our houses than outside them. Yes, unless “sled-dog” or "cross-country" for us are verbs, or we can only enjoy our nouns while cavorting in six layers of clothing -- it’s nigh on Cabin Fever time.

(Personally, I prefer my cavorts in one layer or less, and slightly above room temperature.)

And, please, if you're one of those folks who says, when it nears the minus-thirty degree mark outside, that you like the cold, or worse yet, that "at least you can dress for it," well, I can't help you, I'll never understand you, and may the penguins of paradise march into your carburetor.

But, we do live in this North Country willingly, so we can't complain without adding a qualifier: Suffering through these interminable winters affords us a deeper appreciation and enjoyment of the other seasons, and if the choice is between deep-freezing & blizzards or balmy hurricanes and tornadoes, we'll button up and tough it out 'til spring.

There is a bona fide malady known as SAD, (Seasonal Affective Disorder) formerly known as "Cabin Fever," or the "Winter Blues." We upscaled the latters into a SAD acronym, because we can't get a prescription to treat a colloquialism. For that, we need a "Disorder."

"Yes, I can't come in today. It's too cold outside, and I'm under a doctor's care for my Cabin Fever."

Uh-huh. That’s akin to calling in sick with a case of the Heebie Jeebies, and I don't advise it.

Cabin Fever/SAD is strictly a winter affectation. I don't know of anyone ever smitten by Beach Cabana Fever. The Summertime Blues does afflict some of us, however. Known as GLAD (Gone Lazy Affective Disorder) there is no known cure except to embrace and enjoy it until SAD rolls around again.

Still, whatever we call it, as upcountry boondockers willing to trudge through the cold, dark days from winter solstice to vernal equinox, we're entitled to something compensatory.

First, the good news: We've bumped up Daylight Saving Time to March 11th this year, so we'll be able to stay inside our cabins feverish an hour longer, as it's lighter outside an hour later and three weeks earlier.

If you can't sort through that, not to worry. It's good news, unless you make your bones cutting wood on a maple sugar cheesefarm, and you count on an early morning sun to light your way through the milk thickets. This year, you'll need a flashlight.

As an offering for cocktail party trivia, the correct and official spelling & usage is "Daylight Saving Time," not "Savings," mindful of the verbal adjective. I mean, you wouldn't tell your friends that you read a "mind-expandings humor column" today, right?

I realize this will fall on the deaf ears of those who have always said "Savings." It is more melodious, and the notion of depositing your daylight savings in the sunshine bank is a great comfort. I also accept that these opposite spelling & pronunciation camps will never reconcile, any more than the Kancamangus versus Kancamagus Highway proponents will ever come to terms.

You say magus. He says mangus.

I say Kank and enjoy the ride.

Meanwhile, if you still aren't sure if you're in the grip of Cabin Fever, I have a few simple diagnostic tools:

Did you look above the sink today to that nail holding the Thanksgiving turkey wishbone, retrieve said bird clavicle, make a wish and snap this traditional holiday furcular in a fit of longing for brighter, warmer days? You're there.

Did you do this with no one else around, and couldn't decide whether it was you who got your wish or you who didn't? You're especially there.

Do you find yourself staring at the floor, and it's the wall? CF has moved in.

Have you put on the six layers of thermalwear just to go spend the morning sitting on your silent Harley in the igloo/garage? Yep. You've spiked the annual seasonal temperature.

Did you do this while making those "potato-potato" engine noises in the back of your throat? Oh, boy.

Have you forgotten where you put your glasses and they're on your head? Do you have grow-lights aimed at your Chia Pets? Are you making peepholes with your tongue on the ice inside your windows?

Face it. You're doing the febrile flop.

Remedies? Yes, I did promise some, but I lied. There's only one, and you have to wind it up yourselves:

It's "spring" loaded.

Copyright 2007 B. Elwin Sherman. All rights reserved.