The Unhappiness of Early January
During the first couple weeks of January, people talk about their New Year resolutions. The only New Year’s resolution I make is that I don’t make any resolutions. I usually break any and all resolutions by sunup on January 2.
I also don’t make any predictions for the upcoming year. I leave that for the crystal ball gazers, tarot card readers, bookies, telephone psychics (most of them bigger frauds than Elvis impersonators), stock market analysts (like telephone psychics, most of them are bigger frauds than Elvis impersonators), and the supermarket tabloid astrologers (perhaps the biggest frauds of all, but at least their predictions are interesting reads while I am shopping for toilet paper and Spam). All we know we are definitely living in interesting times. Already during the first days of January, a newbie congresswoman has called President Trump a MFer who should be impeached, the government is partially shut down, China is talking about war, and the college football national championship is a replay pf last year’s national championship (Clemson vs. Alabama again, ho-hum except for the most ardent fans of the Tigers and the Crimson Tide). I can only wonder what the rest of the year is going to be like.
Nonetheless, this is not my favorite time of the year. The nights are long, the weather is frigid, people are taking down their holiday decorations, egg nog is no longer sold in stores, the Kentucky Derby is months away, and Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer and Here Comes Santa Claus will not be played until next Thanksgiving. Even the leftover Christmas candy and gift sets are pretty forlorn, though I did buy a couple of Santa mugs and enough cologne to last me for the rest of the year.
I have become like a robin–I am waiting for the first day of spring.
But at least my favorite NFL team, the Indianapolis Colts, beat the Houston Texans, in the playoffs. Yeah, yeah, I know the Colts came to the Hoosier capital from Baltimore like thieves in the night some 35 years ago. Yet I still root for them maybe because the Colts have produced a bevy of great quarterbacks throughout its history (Johnny Unitas, Bert Jones, Peyton Manning, and now Andrew Luck). Or maybe they toil in anonymity in a Midwestern city rather than a glitzy destination like New York, Los Angeles, or San Francisco. Or maybe they have not become gridiron plug-uglies like the Dallas Cowboys (unfortunately, they won their playoff game yesterday) and the New England Patriots. Maybe, just maybe, the Colts will be playing in the Super Bowl this year. I know it is probably a pipe dream, but this is a great time to dream, dream, dream.
Also, White Castles are serving up Sloppy Joes in January and February. As a sloppy Joe who loves Sloppy Joes, I can’t want to visit a nearby Castle. If they are anything like run-of-the mill sliders, I will be probably spending a lot of time sitting on my porcelain throne, but my tummy will be in orgiastic glee.
Early January is like being in the middle of a cave–dark and dreary. As classic rockers Deep Purple sang a couple of years ago, get me outta here. Or at least give me some summerlike weather.
Joe’s Maybe Memorable Quote of the Day
Consider yourself lucky if your happy new year remains happy on December 31.