Note to Self
Make no plans from mid-January to mid-February, ever. Because at this stupid latitude that you live at (dumbass: it’s too fucking cold and dry), you will get miserably, completely sick during this time. Every. Single. Year. Though, since you haven’t figured it out during your first 46 winters in this hellforsaken place, there’s little hope you’ll get it right anytime in the future, either.
Whatever you started making progress on at the first of the year—working out, a new business, something musical, anything—you will lose all momentum. Whatever social plans you made will be rescheduled, hopefully, though everyone is so busy that it’s more likely they just won’t happen at all.
Just plan on your year starting around February 15. The first six weeks of every year are always, always a total, dead loss, until you wise the fuck up and move to a place more compatible with your weak lungs and failed immune system.