January.It’s cold, and I don’t like it.I prefer warm weather,although I like sweaters. They are the onewarm spot in an otherwise shitty season.But fall is better sweater weather. So be patient,

patient,while waiting for the end of January.A change of seasonbrings a change of mood along with it,although I never thought I’d be oneto believe that SAD junk about effects of weather—

weather!—on a person. Who becomes a patientjust because of onemonth of snow? I did say of January:“It’s cold, and I don’t like it,”but I hardly think it’s fair, knocking whole seasons,

seasoningyour conversation with demands for better weather.(While I find itnearly impossible, it’s my mission to be patientwhile waiting for the end of January.)Oh, but how the long nights do so tax one!

Onewarm spot in an otherwise shitty season—all I ask, January,is one warm day. Do you care whetherI’m a person who becomes a patientin some psych ward? This just about does it.

I.T.,although I never thought I’d call one,is fair and patientwhen I call. They talk with me, seasonmy conversation of demands for better weatherwith an argument for the white beauty of January.

They know it’s hard; they say each seasonhas its detractors. One day, they say, _the weatherwill be controlled—until then, patience in January_.