i. hate. january.

Such a strong word, no? But I do. I can't help it.

I get depressed when it's time to toss the Christmas tree, and change out of my pajamas, and return to the realities of work, and tackle all the paperwork and projects I've dumped into the mental file called "After the Holidays." When family disperses, and Ryan returns to his snowy haven, and, like the Trail of Tears, January stretches out before us in all its bleak, unending glory... for lack of another phrase... it sucks.

The cure? I haven't found the perfect remedy yet, but not for lack of effort. My attempts so far, to name a few, have included:

-making lots and lots of 'to do' lists
-running again
-trying to perfect the art of chocolate chip cookies
-attempting to form some sort of 'ab workout' habit (after the cookies, I honestly don't know why)
-watching "Burn After Reading" ...and wanting to burn it
-getting sucked into Tess of the d'Urbervilles on PBS, loving it, and cursing my inner English nerd because I can't remember that Thomas Hardy wrote it
-drinking way too many protein shakes... ok, and a little pinot noir
-attempting to finish "the project that won't die" [a collage that has been alternately neglected and obsessed-over for the past 28 months: see photo at bottom]
-starting and finishing a new project [cigar box birdhouse for Molly's birthday]
-a few brunches at West Egg
-obsessively cleaning my new house
-losing three consecutive arm wrestling matches to my brothers and our friend Jade, and resolving that my "guns" need more work than I thought
-dumping out my piggy bank, rolling and exchanging the coins for a whopping $29
-actually cooking dinner, instead of defrosting something
-uploading every CD I own into my iTunes, now that my computer is fixed
-battling the ant colony that lives in my office (I actually just had to swipe one of the little bastards off my keyboard)
I could go on, but I have to finish scrubbing the bathtub and take an Epsom salt bath before bed; case in point.