January, the bane of existence for many, stands as a stark contrast to the festive cheer of December and the hopeful anticipation of February, which whispers promises of spring. While December allows for indulgent excesses and a temporary suspension of dietary discipline, January presents a daunting 31 days, a seemingly endless stretch of bleakness with no immediate prospect of relief. It is a month to be endured, a trial to be overcome before the arrival of milder, more forgiving weather. For those residing in the Northeast, like the author, survival tactics become essential to navigate this challenging period and emerge relatively unscathed on the other side, ready to embrace Valentine’s Day.
The first line of defense in this battle against January’s harsh realities is hand care. Exposed to the elements and subjected to the drying effects of indoor heating, hands often bear the brunt of winter’s wrath. A tiered system of hand creams, akin to the DEFCON levels of military preparedness, provides a structured approach to combatting dryness. Level 3 involves everyday moisturizers like Jergens or Lubriderm, offering basic hydration without hindering daily activities. Level 2 escalates to heavier-duty options like O’Keeffe’s Working Hands or Weleda Skin Food, designed for more intensive treatment while still allowing for essential tasks like browsing escapist travel websites. Finally, Level 1, reserved for the most dire circumstances, calls for the deployment of Eucerin Original Healing Cream, a thick, occlusive balm akin to spackle for the skin, to be applied before bed or whenever the urge to leave the couch becomes unbearably difficult to resist. This cream demands commitment, requiring extended periods of immobility as it slowly absorbs, much like opening a traditional yogurt container when a more convenient, portable option exists.
Beyond hand care, the pursuit of warmth becomes paramount in January’s frigid grip. The allure of a space heater, despite its potential hazards, proves irresistible. A cautionary tale of sparking wires, melting cords, and blown circuits serves as a reminder of the delicate balance between comfort and safety. The risk assessment, however, often tilts in favor of warmth, even if it means confining the potential danger to oneself while ensuring the well-being of family members. This calculated risk-taking highlights the desperation that January can evoke, the willingness to prioritize immediate comfort over long-term safety.
The quest for warmth transcends conventional methods, leading to more unorthodox approaches. A medical-grade heating pad, initially intended for therapeutic purposes, becomes a source of constant comfort, even companionship, during the long, cold days. The pursuit of the perfect heating pad becomes a mission, culminating in the acquisition of a powerful device that perhaps pushes the boundaries of legality. Ignoring the manufacturer’s warnings, the heating pad becomes an indispensable accessory, wrapped around hands to combat the debilitating effects of chilblains, a condition that renders fingers numb, swollen, and ultimately, painfully cracked.
The heating pad provides temporary relief, even remission, from the chilblains for a couple of winters. However, this January brings a resurgence of the condition, possibly exacerbated by the demands of a new puppy and the frequent exposure to the cold during house-training sessions. The increased reliance on the heating pad, coupled with the disregard for safety precautions, leads to a new ailment: toasted-skin syndrome, a spiderweb-like rash on the thighs, a permanent reminder of the trade-off made for warmth. This creates a painful dilemma – endure the agony of chilblains or risk further damage from the heating pad.
The internal struggle between the two conditions intensifies, creating a sense of despair. The allure of the heating pad remains strong, despite the known consequences. The cold, coupled with the discomfort of the chilblains, proves too much to bear, leading to the inevitable return to the heating pad, even without its protective cover. This act of desperation underscores the power of January’s grip, the lengths to which one will go to find even a fleeting moment of comfort.
The Roz Chast New Yorker cover, depicting a January calendar filled with relatable winter woes like lost keys in snow and slipping on ice, perfectly captures the essence of this dreaded month. The final day, January 31st, is depicted as a glorious sun, a beacon of hope signifying the end of this arduous journey. This image, framed and displayed in the author’s office, serves as a constant reminder of the temporary nature of January’s reign, a source of motivation to persevere through the cold, the discomfort, and the occasional self-inflicted injuries, knowing that eventually, the sun will break through, and February will arrive, bringing with it the promise of spring.
