Created:
2007-01-23 01:06:03
January is a kicker of a month; any month that starts with a bang like New Years, - especially my New Years- isn’t going to go out quietly. No, it’s going to go screaming and tearing through the halls like a toddler with a temper-tantrum
. There is nothing worse than a having rampaging toddler on your hands, except maybe having a rampaging toddler and a brain clenching hang-over. The natural reaction is to stagger to your room, light a votive candle, burn three incense sticks and then bows to the east before turning out all the lights. Praying to any god who will listen just might save your soul and your pounding head as you lay prone, convinced you’re dying, under your bedcovers. But the Fates have your number. That toddler manifests itself in the piano your roommate is pounding out Debussy’s Toccata on. You retreat huddling in the farthest corner of the house from that wretched instrument, to find yourself under siege from the Shrink-to-be. The first thing a babysitter learns is that kids don’t know when to stop, resulting in them falling asleep face first in the toy bin. This toddler is no exception. Your resident Shrink sees you helpless and pounces, deducting from your best efforts at civility you’re a textbook case of a bipolar disorder. By Jove, it takes everything you’ve got not to put that ‘textbook case’ where it belongs. Hate is a very strong word, but January I really, really don’t like you!
