February is cabin-fever month. Not only does it seem like spring will never come, there are no really effective holiday celebrations to break up the monotony.

Cabin fever refers, of course, to a mental malady that afflicted prospectors in the Old West. Trapped by snow in their mountain shacks for months at a time, they gradually went stir crazy.

Sufferers of cabin fever sometimes invented imaginary friends. Others shot at imaginary enemies. A few ate each other for real. The worst off, if they survived, emerged to become leading politicians.

Back then, there were but two ways to effectively treat cabin fever: stay inside and go insane, or go outside and get eaten by a bear. Both had their merits.

Cabin fever is still a threat today. Granted, there are fewer bears. But the fact remains that nobody in their right mind wants to be driven nuts enough to run for political office.

Thanks to New Age diagnoses, we now recognize various subforms of the old cabin fever. We have cubicle fever, condo fever and crash fever.

Cubicle fever is work-related. Namely, you've been stuck in your cube so long that the boss, who looks more like a giant squid as winter progresses, has actually started to make sense.

Condo fever refers to the largely affluent inability to sit for weeks on end in front of a fire while sipping wine and complaining about the help and the weather.

Crash fever occurs when you become so fed up with someone who flopped at your place for the winter that you start wondering what he would look like as a floor covering.

There is help. First, recognize the problem. If it seems like the people you live with are gradually turning into horned demons, you almost certainly have cabin fever. If you have taken a shot at any of them, you definitely have it.

Next, admit that you need help. Once afflicted, cabin fever is almost impossible to cure without some form of intervention. People will come for you with straitjackets, nets and late movie rental fees. Confess your condition and beg for help.

There are ways of staving off cabin fever. Skiing and winter mountain biking figure prominently in today's paper. But there are ways of dealing with the problem without risking one's neck.

Stay active. Running away from bears used to do it. Today, you might consider running in general. At least find a hobby that enables you to look forward to getting out of the house.

If you can't bring yourself to go outside just yet, get a sun lamp and pretend you're catching some ray on a tropical beach. Smear yourself with sun block and flush 4,000 bucks down the toilet to heighten the illusion of being in Hawaii.

The important thing is to watch closely for the symptoms. If the walls start closing in and the cat looks like a sandwich, you need to get out of the house.

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Salt Lake Tribune columnist Robert Kirby welcomes mail at 143 S. Main St., Salt Lake City, UT 84111, or e-mail at rkirby@sltrib.com.