No offense, January, but in my humble opinion, you really sucked. Worse, I think you’re rather smug about all the chaos you’ve created. It’s like you enjoyed it. Fine. You had your turn, now it’s mine. I couldn’t be happier to usher you to the exit. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Buh-bye, January.

I believe in karma so I say my abrupt departure sentiments with all the loving kindness I have been practicing daily. I committed to starting the new year, and each new morning of it, with meditation, gratitude and reflection. But you did not make it easy, did you, January? It took everything I had to summon the courage to even participate in 31 days of you. I set my alarm every morning to greet the day with peace, and you hit the snooze to kick me later, ya jerk.

Someone told me my January misery was because Mercury was in retrograde. I have no idea what that means. I don’t have a personal relationship with Mercury, so I can’t really speak to that, but my humour was also in retrograde, so I relate.

We didn’t have COVID-19 in our house (grateful for that), but my family did have to quarantine due to a stupid cold that took hold of us with enough symptoms to keep us in a holding pattern. My daughter and I blamed the Carpenter, because he brought it home. He was treated like the contaminated source of germs that he was and subjected to sarcastic remarks and ridicule, because he was weak and thus, fair game. Don’t feel sorry for him. I fed and watered him, just like a house plant (note: I have a tendency to kill the house plants).

Then there was a winter storm, several extreme cold alerts, which meant even more days where the Carpenter was further sequestered to the sofa to binge watch TV and nap, while I worked full days upstairs, keeping up with tasks, making deadlines and responding to emails. The college kid slept (I miss college).

Remember when the pandemic was new? It was kind of romantic when the world came to a standstill the first time. Now, it’s like detention. There is such a thing as too much family time, particularly after Christmas. Don’t even try to argue with me. Parents with students in public school, you have my enduring respect. Seriously, go get yourselves a nice treat of your choosing. Teachers, you too.

Adding insult to injury, Derek the Cold Sore (remember him?) reared his crusted head on my bottom lip, and this time he was so big, he had his own passport. I have never been more grateful for masks in my life. Then, the Kansas City Chiefs choked in the final minutes of the AFC Championship game and I had to listen to the Carpenter chirp me and my fondness for Patrick Mahomes (or “Mahomely”, as he likes to say). He was relentless,(for a house plant). Follow that with San Francisco’s loss and your final Sunday was brutal, January.

Closing the month out, the events in Ottawa broke my spirit. It broke something fundamental in my faith in our leadership, in our humanity, in the Canadian identity. Maybe I needed that. Maybe we all did. That’s a scary thought.   

February, please restore my faith in humanity. Good luck. And go Bengals, (because they wear orange and it’s the Year of the Tiger, so there’s that).

WriteOut of Her Mind