I would like to bring January the worst month of the year. February needs only 28 or more cold days, with the promise of spring on the other side. December had parties and procrastination and excuses to stop meetings such as food per day (three dinners) and portion size (the perfect Ina Garten cocktail). In January, he looked down at 31 dark days, the legal limit, with no hope that things would change anytime soon.
Ideally, I would like to see January erased from the calendar, but one has to be patient. Over the years, since living in the Northeast, I’ve developed a survival index to make sure I make it to Valentine’s Day.
Start with your hands, which I hope look awful at this point. I divide hand creams into continuous levels, similar to the DEFCON model of combat readiness. We start with level 3: the everyday variety from the likes of Jergens or Lubriderm, which is moisturizing but light enough to be absorbed quickly into the hands, so you can put it on and leave your home.
Then again, how many times do you leave your home in January? Continue to Level 2, where you can choose: a neon green tub called O’Keeffe’s Working Hands, or a dark green tube called Weleda Skin Food. The words show that we are growing. They’re heavy enough to take a while to sink in, but not so crippling as to stop you from scrolling through amazing flights to Miami.
The pinnacle, Level 1, can only be used at bedtime, or whenever you get that January feeling of “It’s going to take a real DEFCON 1 [imminent or current nuclear war] to get out of this place on my sofa.” That’s the time for Eucerin Original Healing Cream, a skin spackle. Apply to your hands, your elbows, maybe not your feet – they’re still too far away. Wear socks until spring.
Don’t move until the thick white goop is back on your sad winter skin. It could be days. The joke about Go-Gurt from the Ellen DeGeneres special comes to mind. “Has it been a big problem to go with the yogurt before?” he asked and pretended to pick up the phone and receive an invitation from his friend. After a few seconds, the mood subsided, remembering that he had just opened a traditional yogurt that had to be eaten with a spoon. As dedicated as he is to the hard work he has done, he clearly cannot make a day.
Eucerin Original Healing Cream yoghurt with a spoon for January. As Ms. DeGeneres said, she’s in at night. Apply when your skin is very dry, or when you have a party and want an excuse to bail.
The next part of my survival guide is ill-advised, but I’ll tell you about it anyway. It starts with an air conditioner recommended by a trusted website, which has worked well, except for the part where it shoots sparks in my child’s room. Still? I’m willing to forget the sparks maybe – it’s too cold there! – until my husband plugged it in one day, smelled it and saw the wire melting. Turn off all the lights in the house.
I think the beat circuit was the best. As he stomped into our basement, I did a cost-benefit analysis: warmth versus risk of death. I came out somewhere in the middle. Now I only use our other space heater when I’m alone and in my office, so the danger is all around me. My husband and children will live on, and they will be much better for it.
Space heaters are common, however. My biggest success, while it still existed, was my heating pad. It sounded like a new invention – how many people use a heater for daily warmth, comfort and, to be honest, a certain level of companionship? I researched and ordered and returned until I found what I was looking for: a medical-grade device that probably shouldn’t be legal in the United States. This stuff gets hot, especially when you remove the outer cover to reveal the inner layer emblazoned with the warning on every cap, “Never use a pad without the cover in place.” I ignore this.
Mostly I wrapped my hands in a nice heating towel. Four Januarys ago, I had a condition called chilblains, which is when your fingers actually stop working because of the cold. It’s bad. Your digits feel like ice. They swell up, and then fall apart. Then things get really bad. My husband thought I must have closed my hand on the door by mistake. The dermatologist told me it was incurable.
But he didn’t know about the power of my 75 watt heating pad. I carried that thing into the house. When it started to get a little wonky I bought two more as an insurance policy, preparing for the inevitable day when the home would be foreclosed upon. My skin condition was fine for two winters. I was sure that I had passed.
I’m not sure why this January has taken a toll on me. Was it our new puppy, who requires me to take off my mittens and face the elements about 800 times a day as we try, and fail, to house train him? Was it karma for apparently removing the outer cover of the heating pad?
Whatever the reason, the cold and swelling returned to my fingers. I increased the use of my heating pad in rotation. At the same time, I started having a lump on my thigh like a web. There was a red light in the shower. I linked the rash to the fact that the heating pad sits directly on my lap when I touch my fingers, but I didn’t really pay attention – until my husband, a doctor, informed me that I might be doing permanent damage.
It seemed that I had given myself a new condition, the so-called toasted-skin syndrome. A different dermatologist (on Instagram this time) told me it was permanent.
I took out the heat pad but couldn’t stop looking at it. My fingers were very cold. I began to feel that there was only a bad choice: Heat the chilblains and give myself fried skin disease, or let my fingers shrivel and save my milky thighs.
I did it two days before I connected the heating pad, cursing myself for throwing away the protective cover years ago.
A while back, cartoonist Roz Chast drew a New Yorker cover representing the January calendar. Each day contains regular seasonal entries. “Throw the keys in the snow.” “Slip on ice.” “It’s still January.” (The last one is Jan. 3.)
Jan. 31 is like a great yellow sun, flagged with stars, written “The last day of January!” I framed the cover in my office, where the heater is still moving.
