January is the cruellest month. January, the month without holidays, except for MLK Jr. day which, sadly, only government workers get to celebrate. Granted, there is New Year's Day, but for most people New Year's Day is a day to nurse the hangover you got from the previous evening or to take down the Christmas tree, a job that is one of the most depressing household chores that you can do.
January isn't doing anything but breeding discontent out of people's broken dreams of holiday cheer and goodwill. Visions of sugarplums have been ripped from our heads, replaced with cold, windchill, and hypothermia. Winter is about certain death. Holly bushes have thorns, and mistletoe is a poisonous plant that had no use until some English guy with too much time on his hands decided to repurpose it in the hopes of getting some action.
On top of all this, we choose January as a month to make resolutions. I'm not sure why we put such pressure on ourselves in the most depressing month of the year, but we do. This is the cherry on the sundae of meanness that January is serving. And while we try to hold to inane resolutions that no one should ever make while they're tipsy at 11:45 pm on New Year's Eve, January is laughing.