This stupid, schoolyard bully of a month keeps kicking me while I’m down.
And I am SICK OF IT.
I’m not frustrated anymore. I’m not sad anymore. I’m just ANGRY.
So this is me being a RAGE MONSTER and leading the villagers with torches and pitchforks and pails full of rocks in an angry mob against January.
Because January SUCKED. It really, really SUCKED.
In January’s defense, I sort of deserved it. December was essentially a perfect month. Even the things that went wrong didn’t go all that wrong. I had a perfect week in Boston with my sister1. Then I had two more perfect weeks with my family home in Salt Lake City. I had a good month at work with everyone being cheerful and Christmasy and lots of hand selling books I love to customers who were willing to take my word on everything. And I know you can’t have that many good days in a row without something inevitably falling apart at some point.
But then when things fell apart, they didn’t just fall. They collapsed. They imploded. January came in, as the poet hath wrote, like a wrecking ball.
And I am SICK OF IT. I am sick of getting up at six and getting home at eleven. I am sick of scheduling my days down to the minute and still running out of time. I am sick of my computer being broken, my cabinets falling off the walls, and the child in the upstairs apartment running laps at two in the morning. I am sick of falling behind and not being able to sleep and eating terribly and just being so generally unhappy all the time.
I am done with January.
Tomorrow is February. Tomorrow I’m starting over. I’m putting January at my back and kicking out the bad. I made it through January2, and things can only get better from here.