January has been with us for approximately fourteen months. That is the only explanation. Somehow, despite calendars and assurances from trustworthy sources, it is still not over. The final week of January feels less like a passage of time and more like a personal test of character.
This is the week when New Year’s resolutions quietly collapse under the weight of reality. Walking around the block hasn’t become part of our daily routine. The snacks in the pantry remain as unhealthy as they’ve always been. “Next week” has evolved into a lifestyle rather than a specific plan, and oddly enough, forgiving myself for that feels like growth. Or at least survival.
Meanwhile, the weather remains deeply confused. It has been so darn cold, even if it hasn’t been below zero with feet of snow as in some parts of the country. Freezing in the shade, sunburned in the sun are daily reminders that January has no allegiance to logic. Coats are put on, taken off, and dramatically tossed over chairs in mild frustration. Every morning begins with the same question. Winter boots or sneakers? So far, the boots win out every single day.
There is also a particular exhaustion that arrives only in January. Not holiday tired, not spring tired , just January tired. The kind of tired that makes naps feel medically necessary. The kind that causes you to walk into a room, stop, look around, and accept that whatever brought you there is simply no longer important enough to remember.
By now, even the house seems to have opinions. Dust appears overnight, uninvited and unapologetic. Floors look offended no matter how recently they’ve been cleaned. Plants are alive… technically. Oliver and Tanner, sensing weakness, demand extra snacks with the confidence of creatures who know they are winning.
And yet, somewhere in this long, lingering week comes a quiet realization that the year is still very young. There is plenty of time to get things right with the spring cleaning inside and the gardening outside. Certainly, there’s plenty of time to do absolutely nothing today. January, in its final days, hands us a gentle permission slip to move slowly.
The last week of January isn’t about accomplishments, but rather about endurance, warm drinks, and low expectations. About making peace with the pace and trusting that February is standing just outside the door, tapping its foot, ready to let us move on.
More tomorrow.