January is more dark than light. The snow on the ground is all too often the only bright spot in any given day. The skies are gloomy and the sun occasionally finds a way to peak between the houses long enough to make you squint. This week, it has been below zero every day and whether the sun is shining or not, none of us was interested in leaving the warm confines of the house. If it wasn't for our jobs, we wouldn't leave the house at all. We'd drink water and order delivery until spring, if our bank account would support it.
During these times I pity the dog the most. He hates the cold. It freezes snow to his feet and it chaps his tummy, where his fur is the thinnest. I wouldn't blame him if he just started squatting in the basement. Having to go to the bathroom outside in this kind of weather almost resembles torture. He looks at me as if to say "When is spring supposed to be here?" I get the sense that if we up and moved to California, he would be no contestant to it at all. Normally, he hates anything that is out of the daily routine, but any escape from this frozen suburb would surely peak his interests enough for him to consider playing along with little debate.
This time of year, the sun comes up around 7:30 and sets around 4. We spend our entire day inside, so it is commonplace to not see the sun at all during the week. Our energy drains like a solar panel on the dark side of the moon. We spend our weekends trying to regain our strength and fight again come Monday. It's a sad situation that wastes a weekend as a bridge between the work weeks. I believe life's meaning is not found Monday through Friday between 8 and 4:30. At some point, this weekly psychosis will need to be adjusted into something more accommodating to a truly significant life.
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