January is the worst month of the year. It is very wrong to follow up the comforting white lights and wassail of the holiday season with a month made up of 31 short, dark, cold days. I am tired of my winter clothes. I am tired of having cold feet. I am tired of driving to work in the pitch darkness. I am tired of trying to teach seventeen kids who have mysteriously and universally undergone freakish personality mutations.
Tomorrow is February 1. I can feel my spirits lifting already. February brings Valentine’s Day, which is a great excuse for mid-winter presents and a delicious meal. February brings us one more month closer to spring; in just 28 days, it will be March, the month of Spring Break and flip-flop frenzy at Old Navy.
But most importantly, February will be NOT January. I am taking Beth Moore’s advice, as posted on Prophecies, to start fresh on my resolutions at the start of each new month. So February will be the month of organized housework, pre-planned meals, and increased distinction between my gluteals and upper thighs.
Goodbye, January! February, bring it on!