This morning, I heard on the radio that Jan. 24 is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year. I looked at the gray sky, at my moist windshield, and at the trees bent over as they succumbed to the forceful wind. I thought about the fact that it was 9:45 am and I was out in the world already. And I decided that it wasn’t a depressing day. For one thing, I like the gloom, and although I despise the wind, one unpleasant aspect does not a depressing day make. The most-depressing-day-of-the-year label followed me throughout the day, however. Everything that wasn’t smooth and perfect became cause for concern. Did my car start funny or was that my imagination? Was it necessary for Mark to be five minutes late for work and then to take 10 minutes to change his clothes in the bathroom, thus making me 15 minutes late leaving work? When I arrived at school this afternoon, my nemisis the wind was in full swing. I know I looked ridiculous all hunched over trying to make my way to CM without blowing over, but still I was not calling this a depressing day. I went home and watched GH, which was mediocre, and then turned half my attention to a rerun of 90210 with Vanessa Marcil, which is a depressing subject for me but I got mostly over it six or seven years ago. The cat rejected me and my elbow ached, but I was not ready to give in. All these factors make this particular Jan. 24 not a great day but certainly not the most depressing day of the year. Then I watched basketball.