But in January, you have to tune it all out, I think. You wait at the bus stop and count the seconds as the wind makes your eyes water and then form little ice crystals around the edges. Walking over to the store seems so painful that you do without. A supper of soup with crusty bread becomes soup only.
That state of tuning it all out, focusing on things in the day that don’t require a confrontation with the elements, makes you rather insular and closed off, too. Should I be social? Wait until after January. Want to stroll down the hill for a midday espresso? No thanks.
It’s a shame that right about now, January seems very long.
In other news, I'll be taking the bus to Chicago later today for a postponed celebration of the little one’s Wednesday birthday. I have twenty-six years of guilt for giving her a January birthday. What was I thinking??? Ah... whatever I was thinking, it was an April thought, long after January of that year had fizzled away.
(At 7 a.m., when I took this photo from the rooftop, the thermometer registered –16 F outside)
