February is the shortest month. But we sure pack a lot into it, don’t we?

In addition to all the awards shows, the Super Bowl and this year’s Olympics, there are a raft of annual holidays with which to contend.

First of all, there’s Groundhog’s Day, where everyone in a cold weather climate hangs his/her cabin-feverish hopes on a rodent. Frustrated with our meteorologists, we project seemingly mystic powers onto Pennsylvania’s Punxsutawney Phil. And, not surprisingly, we’re typically disappointed with the outcome.

Then there’s Valentine’s Day, which is said to be the saddest day of the year for the unattached among us. In fact, I noticed the word SAD was trending on February 14th, as there was a groundswell of support for redefining the acronym as: “Single Appreciation Day.” (I, however, was met with beautiful red roses at my door and enjoyed dinner with the wonderful man in my life – thanks, hon.)

Now this week, we have President’s Day , where we observe George Washington’s birthday and pay our respects to our founding fathers. Granted some people got off work for it, but for most of us, it was just another Monday without mail service.

I subscribe to the philosophy that we need to celebrate every day. Why should we arbitrarily heap a bunch of expectations on a few force-fed celebrations? I believe if you spread out your expectation of joy to each of the 365 days, you’ll be that much happier.

It’s probably a good thing that February is nice and short. (Leap year is another matter for another time.)