Ah, February.

For me, it’s such a complicated calendar contribution, ‘kay?

First of all, the whole there’s that whole “not enough days”-ness of it. Who the heck decided that and why? I’m missing something here. In fact, we all are — like a couple of earth axis rotations.

Except for leap year. Don’t get me started on that hurdle. Pun intended, a’ight?

I want to like February. I really do.

There’s some good stuff here, friends. Black History Month. Heart Health Awareness Month. The kickoff of the Lenten season.

What can I say? I like pesce — er, fish — and faith, capisce?

It’s the month of the birth of the world’s greatest big bro. (Happy early birthday, Dan!)

Then again, it’s got flipping Groundhog Day, which, if we’re being honest, is just an annual exterminator of hope.

And speaking of wanting to off Mother Nature’s evil steprodent, she really could step in and whack that mole more often. Granted, there have been spring years when she has.

I can vaguely recall — again, ever so rarely — that it has been, like, almost warm … even sunny in the second month.

But more often than not, she’s less fickle in her February form. It’s generally grosser than groundhog goop. Blech. Not to mention, shrug.

February is the paramount paradox. I consider it the month equivalent of an oxymoron.

So much so that it’s confusing and complicated to define my February feels — especially now that it houses such a bitter anniversary.

Almost a year since I lost my rock and some days it’s as raw as it was that awful day. #LoveYouPop

Hmpf.

Flipping February. Oh! And, I almost forgot about the arguably most nonsensical feature of February — I mean aside from its spelling. WHAT IN THE ACTUAL WED-NESS-DAY???

Ahem. I digress.

Another kooky quirk of February is the whole concept of Valentine’s Day. That’s a passion puzzler, people. As in, who decided to make the allegedly most amorous, affectionate day of the year fall within its arguably coldest point in winter?

Wouldn’t it have made more sense to have this (made-up) holiday occur in, say, August? We could swap out one of these observances to Feb. 14:

Aug. 2: National Ice Cream Sandwich Day. To be fair, is there ever a WRONG day for this?

Aug. 7: International Beer Day (First Friday). Not my jam, but my Valentine would be a fan.

Aug. 8: International Hangover Day. Sure, makes good sense. Oh, it’s also International Cat Day, BT dubs. I’m a dog girl, but it’s only fair, yo.

Aug. 10: Lazy Day. Is there any BETTER time than February for this?

Aug. 14: National Creamsicle Day. I mean, we’re cold anyway, why not at least have a good reason?

Aug. 25: National Banana Split Day. Please see above.

Aug. 27: Just Because Day. Please see Aug. 10.

But instead, here we are, dressed in red only to soon turn blue.

“Oh, Sweetie, you look so beautiful in your red strapless gown and 5-inch-heel open-toed Manolos for our romantic night on the town. And I know you spent $457 on your new, rockin’ hairdo. Now put on this moose head hat, insulated duck-boot galoshes, and oversized Gortex parka because it’s a blizzard out there and the temperature is 2.”

Yeah, I don’t understand February. Or Valentine’s Day.

Or why we think groundhogs can do anything besides burrowing … and stockpiling snacks … and hibernating. Hmm. Maybe those suckers are smarter than I thought.

• Kimerer is a columnist trying to find February fulfillment. She sends happy wishes to all, especially her first Valentine in heaven and the one she’s had for nearly three decades. Contact her at www.patriciakimerer.com.