Hello, out there in February-land!

Winter blahs got you down?

Seen the TV ads for a cold-cure Benadryl Day? You recall the sickie in bed with a cold, a cough cure and his faithful dog, relaxing and skipping work in winter.

Well, this is an Art Mantell Winter Woes Cure Day.

Here’s what you do:

1. Find a large south-facing window.

2. Drag a two or three-seater couch or chesterfield (only in Canada is a couch a chesterfield, you say? Stop interrupting and pay attention to my winter well-being recipe).

3. Drape a large, connected electric blanket over the back and seat of the couch.

4. Tear off all your clothes. You are alone, we assume. If not, we have another situation entirely, and you are on your own and probably armed with a telephone camera.

5. Bring over newspapers, radio, small TV, and connect all.

6. Await arrival of blazing-hot February sun around eight o’clock in the morning.

7. Throw self (naked) on heated blanket.

8. Arrange previously-prepared supply of coffee, booze, doughnuts, biscuits, deli sandwiches, chocolates, etc., enough to last six or so hours. Get ready to snack, snooze, stretch, sleep this fine winter day away.

9. At last you can kiss those winter blues goodbye. You are now in the Canadian winter banana belt. The sun is shining, you are tanning and it feels so hot your winterized bones are moaning in ecstasy. (Don’t forget the sunscreen and, oh yes, your shades. You don’t want to go snow blind from the glare of sun on snow banks just a few feet outside your window). The temperature on your back and front side averages 90 Fahrenheit (and something or other Celcius). Damn you, Elliot Trudeau (Yes, the Pierre omission is deliberate. Anything to demean this dead nation destroyer).

10. Lift a cool or hot one to your good fortune to live in such a blessed country, and save a little pity for your working stiff friends and neighbours.

P.S. Let’s keep this our little secret. If it gets out that Canada isn’t what Voltaire once described as being only 60 arpents of worthless snow and ice, everybody will want to come here in winter, and those who are already here will want to don tools, stop working and get in on the good life.

Salut amigos, and call me in the the spring.

P.P.S. Spot the deliberate eye-trick typo and win a day on my couch next February. If our editor misses it and takes it out, he’ll rue the day he came to work here.