Like a lot of people, I get depressed in the winter, which makes me very grateful that I didn't grow up in Finland.

If I'd grown up in Finland, I would have been one of those self-medicating drunks sitting in the back of the bus, shouting crap at Mormon missionaries (including my husband), which means he and I probably would NOT have gotten married.

No.

He would have returned to the states, graduated from college, found himself a nice, non-shouting-crap-at-Mormon-missionary's wife and enjoyed a satisfying career downtown, while I would still be over there in Helsinki, scaring the elders and talking to imaginary pigeons.

Over the years, I've tried different approaches for dealing with my seasonal blues. Exercise helps. Although it's never much fun while I'm doing it, I sometimes notice later in the day when I don't bite someone's head off at the grocery store for holding up the line BECAUSE THEY JUST CANNOT FIND THEIR STUPID COUPONS that exercising does, indeed, take the edge off my irritability.

At times I go in for anti-depressants. Some winters have been so bad, I've wanted to do nothing but curl up in bed and have people slide me food, as well as the occasional Star magazine, under the door because, dude! a person is NEVER too depressed to find out if Angelina is pregnant again and whether that makes Brad feel trapped.

This year, though, I'm just all about my new little light visor. My husband bought it online for me this fall so I won't sit on a bus and shout crap at him. You put it on first thing in the morning, push its little button and flood your eyeballs with neon green light.

So what if you look like the Chrysler Building at Christmastime! So what if you look like a kid with a flashlight, telling scary stories at Scout camp! So what if you look like you just made a run to a toxic waste dump! If it works, I'm in.

Here's something else that helps — imagining my doppelganger having a (really, really) good time in sunnier climes while my neon green face and I are sitting out here in the Rocky Mountains.

OK. A brief aside about doppelgangers. First, don't you just love that word? The German nation was completely on its "A" game when it invented that one. So, way to go, German nation! You rock! Second, I love the notion that each of us has a twin somewhere in this world, because seriously who doesn't have a "Parent Trap" fantasy involving spaghetti dinners with Brian Keith?

Only I don't want my doppelganger to technically look like me. ... Technically I want her to look like someone else.

Angelina Jolie, for instance. Who's in southern France. Which, I believe, is way sunnier than it is here. So yeah. She can be my doppelganger this year. (Thanks, Angelina! Let me know when I can return the favor!)

Meanwhile, I'd appreciate YOUR tips for surviving winter.

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E-mail: acannon@desnews.com