Sacrificing Spirits: The Peculiar Ritual of Dry January
The genuine issue with Dry January isn’t the abstinence; it’s the ill-timed attempt to suck the joy out of the post-yuletide wasteland. Why not try Dry April? The sun is shining; the flowers are blooming, and all the birds are happily singing. Wouldn’t that make sobriety slightly more bearable?
What about dry September? The kids are finally back in school, and you finally get a bit of time for yourself.
Instead, its dry January. You throw your alcohol into the trash to remove temptation. And stumble into the new year with all the grace of a flamingo on roller skates. For some reason, we believe this is a noble endeavor.
I get it, moderation is key, but Dry January feels like the overeager friend who jumps into your life at the worst possible time. Life’s wisest rule isn’t the cliché “everything in moderation” — after all, who can resist Oscar Wilde’s clever addition, “including moderation”? And dry January is like that hyperactive friend who chooses the most inconvenient moment to crash your party.
It’s like starting a juice cleanse seconds before Christmas dinner — a noble suggestion, but seriously, have some timing, mate!
