If on a Winter’s Night an Enthusiast

January, as the bard most definitely famously said, is the cruelest month. And I can see why he said it! First off, it’s cold as a witch’s broom out. Even for those of us Enthusiasts living in the Godless Northwest, temperatures have plunged below what might be considered polite, and one is therefore forced to wear all manner of layers, or at least one funny-looking ski coat, so’s to ensure safe travel from all the Points A of the world to all their respective Points B.

Second off, and not incidentally related to the first reason, you’ve got to pay some darned high heating bills. Me and the wife had been thinking of taking a luxurious steamboat cruise, but now what with these darned high heating bills, you can just throw that out the window (which, in our case, isn’t even double-paned, for chrissakes).

Third off, it gets dark around 1 pm. Oh sure, it gives you more time to tell your favorite ghost stories, but what about some of the good old Vitamin D, what what?

Fourth off, you’ve got the economy. Am I right, or am I right?

But fifth off is what I really want to discuss, and that is the graven sickness to which one, no matter what precautions he takes, can expect to find himself subject during January – also known definitely, 100% , bard-verified as the cruelest month.

This January alone I have suffered from 23 separate health-related maladies, including, but most certainly not limited to: headache, stomachache, toothache, pulled hammy, tweaked hammy, leftover hammy from Christmas, minor brain cancer, chilblains, bad spelling, and “losing a step,” which last problem I understand is normal for a speed merchant like myself as he gets acquainted with becoming 30-ish.

It will be a difficult month, Enthusiasts – if it hasn’t been already. Aches and pains, fevers and mirrors, contretemps and petites morts. But being forewarned is being, uh, warned ahead of time. And so you have been! It’ll be difficult, but soon it will be over, February will be here and, along with it, its attendant pleasures.*

*Which pleasures I’m forgetting at the moment, but will most assuredly be reminded of come that saving month.

But just as you should never get wet or feed after midnight your Mogwai, there is one pastime which the good Enthusiast ought never endeavor to undertake in the event of ailment this month and it is this: NEVER LOOK UP YOUR SYMPTOMS ON THE INTERNET. Here’s why: you will almost definitely end said internet browsing session under the impression that you’ve contracted, despite years of celibacy and a history of drug use relegated to birch beer and the occasional stinky cheese, that you’ve contracted HIV. Why? Because everything in the whole world, down to liking the occasional Fiona Apple song, is a symptom of HIV. And even though, intellectually, you will totally understand that you don’t have HIV, it will be impossible to forget that one time, with that one girl, at that one party, when you were like, “Why is there a donkey in here?” and then you found out why there was a donkey in there. So here’s the facts: just don’t do it.