A February to remember. Or better yet, to forget.

Let me be upfront: I am biased. I hate February.

February is the month when snow loses its charm, and nature heaps on a couple more feet of it out of spite. February is the month when cabin fever really sets in, along with every other type of sickness. February is the month where you feel the pressure of romantic relationships more acutely — either to find one if you’re single, or to perform some over-the-top act of romance if you’re with someone. It’s cold. It’s wet. It’s boring. The only good thing about February is that it’s shorter than other months.

Perhaps it’s my bad attitude or seasonal karma or God’s own sense of irony, but my luck also takes a marked turn for the worse in February. And February 2015 didn’t disappoint. This month:

• The weather put the F and the U in February, dumping several feet of snow on our town.
• In a related twist, our snowblower broke. Twice.
• One of my kids was hospitalized for illness on Valentine’s Day.
• I was in a car accident, sending my car to the shop for two weeks. (No injuries to anyone, thankfully.)
• I had a violent stomach bug the day of my car accident.

In short, this has been one of the worst Februaries I’ve ever been around to see. February 2015 has been the February of Februaries. It’s February squared.

But February does have that one bright spot: whomever designed the calendar was smart enough to shave a couple of days out of it. March is just around the corner. I can feel spring fever already — that fire in my bones and wind in my lungs that lets me know that the good seasons are coming, and bringing with them energy, vitality, productivity and, best of all, an end to February.