Post-Christmas Depression

I woke up this morning with no desire to get out of bed. Outside, it’s cold, gray and windy. Inside, there’s dirty dishes and laundry, a daughter with the sniffles and a husband who hasn’t golfed in weeks. (He gets a little cranky if he can’t get his game on.) Even the dog seems lazier than usual.

I think we’re all suffering from the Post-Christmas Blues. It’s hard to accept that there’s no reason for anyone to bring me a box of chocolate-covered cherries for at least six more weeks. (And even then, it’s not a guarantee.)

There are no presents to wrap. I have nothing to shop for and no money to shop with. No one is singing an off-key version of “Silver Bells” or wishing me a Happy New Year. I haven’t received any festive January mail--only bills from last month’s gift frenzy. And the cold temperatures are beginning to get on my nerves. (What do I mean “beginning”?!)

I’m tired of wearing four layers of clothing just to get the newspaper. My feet are in a constant state of ice. My fingers are long, blue icicles that make it very difficult to pick my nose. The sky varies between submarine gray and dingy white, and the sun’s warmth has gone into retirement. Oh, the sun’s still there—shining down on this cold world. But I guess he hasn’t paid his heating bill because those rays are FRIGID!

My mood is as dark as the inversion hanging over my home. I tell myself it’s all in my mind, that I just need to cheer up. I try to think happy thoughts, but dark ideas keep creeping back into my head. January is the month when I spend a lot of time planning the perfect murder. I’ve read enough Agatha Christie novels to create quite the crime scene.

Something must be done.

We need to create a holiday for January!

I’m sure you know it’s National Oatmeal, Soup and Hot Tea Month. Duh. And although Jan. 13 is International Skeptics Day (but I don’t believe it), the 20^th is Penguin Awareness Day and the 24^th is Beer Can Appreciation Day, these aren’t really embraceable holidays: except maybe National Chocolate Cake Day on Jan. 27.

I don’t need anything extravagant; just a small excuse to get together with family/friends and laugh with each other. (Or laugh at each other.)

We have Christmas in July, so why not summer in January? Pink lemonade could be the month’s required beverage, and we could watch old Beach Blanket Bingo movies and listen to Beach Boys music. (Although both are irritatingly nerve-wracking.)

I could crank the heat up to 70 degrees, a real treat in our house, and we could lounge around in our swimming suits and hula skirts. Maybe even head to the local indoor pool for some frolicking. How often do you take your kids swimming in the winter? (The answer is NEVER. Have you BEEN outside? It’s cold!)

Perhaps I could persuade my husband to roll out the grill to cook up some hot dogs and hamburgers, and invite people over for a winter barbecue.

So I hereby designate January as “Summer in Winter.” Let’s celebrate appropriately. Sunglasses and tropical shirts will be the order of the day. I’m all for calling Hallmark to have them create greeting cards we could send to our cold-weather friends. That company is ALL about promoting holidays.

I’m beginning to feel sunnier already.