Crymate change.

Is the rooster facing the wrong way on this weathervane clip art? 

I'm not sure if I'm dealing with seasonal affective disorder or post-Christmas blahs or what, but our unseasonably warm temperatures haven't lifted my spirits. Maybe I like the fighting with the snow that usually comes in January. Takes my mind off things. I don't think I'd miss the snow much if I moved south and never ran into it again. But a good fight can bring a guy some pride.

As usual, most of our neighbors couldn't wait to get all their Christmas decorations down, as if the whole thing had been a big mistake and they wanted to forget it and move on. The rest have been taking them down one by one, or just not lighting up anymore. Not us. We're lit till Epiphany, boys! Technically that's today, but it's not celebrated until Mass on Sunday. Then we return to Ordinary Time. (I always hear the voice of Lili from Blazing Saddles: "Oh . . . how ordinawy.") 

If we're the last house with lights on through Sunday night, so be it. I'll clear the outdoor stuff Monday. There's no blizzard on the way. 

Work is starting to rev up again -- a little slow off the starting blocks this week with the freelance assignments, but we're getting there. Meanwhile there's always the sense that No One Likes Me Anymore and I'm Going to Have to Live in a Box. Not that I worry about things.

Fighting snow, fighting through a pile of editorial work, keeping body and soul together and house intact through the winter -- maybe it does give a man a sense of purpose. That's one way to fight the January blues. I don't know what people do in the south. Enjoy themselves, maybe. I don't know how to do that.