My mother used to describe certain things as "slow as molasses in January." Somehow I always forget that January seems to have a built-in slogging and dreamy quality. I'm always eager for new beginnings and being back on track after the holidays, but I forget that it takes a while to clean up, sort out, and reorganize -- and this autumn was far busier than most.
The first half of the month I seemed to spin my wheels as much as I moved forward. But at last my momentum began to build. I feel like I'm waking up to the crispness of winter.
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