winter-reading

It’s been a sucky week.
No, don’t bail on me, this isn’t going to be a whine festival, lol.

Let’s just say that if I hear one more idiotic weatherman crow, “Well, hey—at least it’s good for the winter sports enthusiasts!”, I will run down to the tv station and shove a ski pole up his arse.

For the past two weeks, we’ve had one winter storm after another (and another in progress, as I look out…sob!).  Now, I always knew that the weather could have a profound effect on one’s moods.  It’s only recently occurred to me that it also affects my reading habits.

I don’t seem interested in reading about tropical islands, fun in the sun, sand-scoured bikinis or humid, sweaty nights.  This sort of surprises me, actually, since one of the big reasons we supposedly read is for escapism.  And the idea of escaping this winter, even in my imagination, sounds pretty good about now.
At the moment, however, I’m more into the dark, intense, dry-humor-with-a-pinch-of-evil sort of reading.  Mysteries are great right now, especially cozies.  A little urban fantasy—yes.  Paranormal with sharp fangs—yes.  A hero who would rather reign in Hell than serve in Heaven—oh, yes. :surrender:
I do love a good romping story when the weather is “lighter”, but it doesn’t appear to be working for me right now.  Something to do with the snow pile outside my window that’s nearly as tall as my garage roof, perhaps? :roll:

Maybe our need to relate to the story is even stronger than our need for escapism.
Has anyone else noticed this in their reading patterns?