Are you singing the blues?
Those "I'm Way Too Cold, I Hate the Winter, It's too Dark Too Early" Blues.
I never get excited about the start of a new year.
Once the ball drops in Times Square to launch Jan. 1, you'll find me heading for the covers, hoping to hibernate until the sun shines brightly sometime in the spring.
This year, I clocked into bed at 12:09 a.m.
Why celebrate another new year? It's another year of being older, of watching time slip away too quickly, especially the older you get.
And what are you actually celebrating anyway? It's going to be a good month or two of freezing temperatures, dark cloudy days, chilly nights and maybe some snow and ice.
Yes, let's have a party! All hope is lost.
There's actually a clinical term for this type of depression: It's called "Seasonal Affective Disorder."
It's actually a mood disorder where normal people -- like you and me -- get down in the dumps. We may stay in bed a little longer, lack energy and basically mope around the house.
We eat more, exercise less. We frown more, smile less.
I guess I get it every year. I hate January and I hate July. (I know -- how can you hate a month of summer!) I guess it's because of the extremes of both months -- the coldest and the hottest.
January is such a downer when you think about it.
First off, the holidays are over. Then the bills start rolling in and piling on from all those Christmas and holiday presents we bought when we were full of good cheer.
Next comes the colds. The illness. The flu for a lot of us. And that certainly doesn't make anyone happy.
Now throw on those tax forms that start arriving in the mail. Uncle Sam is coming. And we've already lost a little in our paychecks from those tax hikes. No wonder we all want to jump off a fiscal cliff!
Television is also tied up in reruns right now before the February Sweeps. One of my new favorite shows this year just got canceled too. I watched the series finale on Thursday.
What gets men through this terrible time is sports.
But let's face it. Our Philly sports teams stink right now.
The Philadelphia Eagles didn't make the playoffs. The Sixers are struggling. The Flyers got off to a slow start. And the Phillies off-season is nothing to write home about.
So we hang on. There's the Super Bowl next Sunday, always a game that lifts any sports fan's spirits.
And then there's Spring Training.
Most women look forward to Valentine's Day on Feb. 14. We men look forward to hearing the word that pitcher and catchers are reporting to camp. That warms the heart a lot more.
We can't even bank on the groundhog anymore.
Next Saturday, that furball will pop out of his hole and give us his weather report.
You already know the answer: Six more weeks of winter.
So, are you singing the blues?