January, you stink

It’s hard to get out of bed when the clock says morning, but the window says dark, and the warm spot in the mattress says don’t be a fool, and the furnace says it’s going to be awhile yet, and the brain says 10 more minutes ain’t going to change the course of human history one iota.

And yet somehow warm feet find themselves on cold floors indicating a familiar point of no return has returned.

You’re up.

But you ain’t at ’em, because it’s

January, and no one’s up and at ’em in the morning in January.

Winter in

New England is January. If you make it through January, chances are you will make it through winter. This, however, is not a hard-and-fast assurance. January comes with no guarantees.

To survive January calls for perseverance and patience, especially patience. January is the slowest month of the year. When other parts of the country are celebrating Easter, in New England it is still January. To understand how this is possible, you have to live in New England in January. It’s not the harsh weather that makes the exhausting month interminable, although that doesn’t help. New Englanders are bred to deal with the biting winds, the freezing rain, the howling nor’easters, the arctic cold snaps, the sudden avalanches of snow, the all of the above at the same time. The darkness, however: Now, that’s a whole other kettle of Seasonal Affective Disorder.

The January sun, when so inclined, rises late, low and cold and sets early, low and cold, often leaving the skies afire with color but no warmth. The absence of daylight leads to listlessness, moodiness, edginess, craziness. Granted, you can go off the rails in other winter months, but January derailments tend to be more sudden and dramatic.

There are, of course, people who like January. All we can hope for in their regard is that they get the help they need. What the rest of us have to keep telling ourselves is that eventually January will end. Exactly when this will take place is anybody’s guess.

New Englanders are bred to deal with the biting winds, the freezing rain, the howling nor’easters, the arctic cold snaps, the sudden avalanches of snow, the all of the above at the same time. The darkness, however: Now, that’s a whole other kettle of Seasonal Affective Disorder.

William Brown