January, 2022

 January.

January flew by like a bird caught on fire.
The month began with Orange Cardamom rolls; a tradition of mine. I like to start the dough on New Year's Eve, so the previous year rolls easily into the next.
There is absolutely nothing quite like starting the year with a pun. 
I also began 2022 with a fresh shave. I like to look at every day as a clean slate, but New Year's Day is entirely another monster. The best way to start anything new is to go head first. I've also needed a haircut, but haven't had one yet.
I've never had an extensive list of must-do things to do on the first day of the year.
It's always been a day of utter freedom and non-responsibility. A day to just be. To reevaluate and plan for the year ahead.
I like to have as many of those days, throughout the year, but the First is a special case. 
That being said, I have done a few things these past few years that have become a ritual of sorts. 
Roast a chicken. 
Scrub the heck out of my cast iron skillet and season it. 
Do a load of laundry; washing the remainder of clothes from Christmas and New Year's Eve, patterned with food stains. 
And go somewhere to reflect, simply being for an hour or two. 

I rang in the New Year at 12:00 midnight: I cursed the struggles 2021 brought and blessed the good things that also came with it. All whilst giving 2022 a chance to be better. And for this human to do and be better.
This year, I finished the cardamom rolls in the morning on the First, not as hungover as I'd been the past few years, but the day still tinged with a headache. 
I went on a lovely walk in Midtown.
I did scrub and re-season my cast iron; restoring it back to the best version of itself and hoping I could do the same in this next year. For me, not restoring myself, but continuing to shape and refine who I know I can be. A kinder, yet more courageous version of myself. 
I roasted a chicken, even though it was a few days later on the Fifth. This year I spatchcocked the chicken. It might not be much different, but it was my first time not traditionally roasting a bird, for a purpose. To change something. To deviate from the traditional. But if there's one thing I haven't been in a long time; it's traditional. Still working on it, but I do think being a single gay 30-something cook in a city isn't your normal run of the mill.
I did a load of laundry, and even put aside some clothes I hadn't worn the past year. They had collected into a small pile which I deemed The Goodwill Pile. Sweaters, Boots and shoes that no longer served me. Still in good enough condition, but no longer of use to me. 
I reflected on the past year, the good and the bad. I tend to process by getting my thoughts down on paper. Or, in some cases, on a screen which I find myself typing into now. 
Reflecting on covid being evil-adjacent, and people being the majority of the highlights. Through the past two years, I've realized how much I have desperately missed people. I've spent a great deal of it alone, in my room. To be fair, both of my roommates have had covid, and one of them more than once. 
Being careful has become exhausting, and I've grown weary of it.
"Safety first", and all that tomfoolery. Keeping my room door closed and hoping air doesn't leak through the open seams of my walls, which are in the continual state of construction. 
I've nurtured the introverted side of myself, which has caused me to realize yet again that I am both introverted and extroverted: a true ambivert.
The introverted side of myself has gotten enough love and care, and the extroverted side has been neglected. Due in part to covid and restrictions and hesitations therein, and in part to money and time. I still have yet to count the number of hours I spent on Marta last year. There's a part of me that wants to, but the other part of me gets tired thinking about how to tabulate them all. It would undoubtedly be days on end. 
Within the first few days of January, I found myself with congestion, yet again.

Was this:
A.) Another sinus infection?
B.) Omicron?
or C.) Some new variant that exhibits different symptoms? Covid can exhibit different symptoms in different people, so could this be my experience with it? I got a test just to make sure. 

If you chose option A, you are correct!
The kicker was that I was one-hundred percent sure I had it. I had the symptoms. The scratchy throat, the coughing, the tiredness, and unmitigated exhaustion.
Could sinus congestion be my body's take on it? Not this time.
It seems as if everything causes my sinuses to close up. A drop of cow's milk in a latte, a spot of cream cheese on a bagel, a sliver of cheesecake, wet socks, or a slightly cool breeze on a wintery day when I'm wearing one of my thinner cardigans. 
This turned out to be one of those occurrences. I did not have any variant of covid. I had a severely stuffy nose and some sort of head cold. One that was so bad, it's felt as if someone had poured concrete into my nasal passages while I wasn't aware.
And if there's one thing I'm always aware of, it's my sinuses. 
I've heard so many times that you never appreciate a non-stuffy nose until you're all stuffed up. 
For me, I appreciate a clear nose every time I have one. It feels as if I've had more of a stuffy nose than not, at least for the past few years. 
I've settled on the fact that my nose just despises me. Some days it feels like it wants to leave me altogether. "Join the club", I've said to my nose in the mirror before.
Yet still, it refuses to leave my face. 
Of that, I'm grateful. I don't think looking like Voldemort would suit me. Instead, I go through two boxes of tissues a month and take Claritin every day.
Okay, I take the store brand of Claritin. Allergy meds are expensive, and my roommate has two cats. 
Being out of work hasn't been entirely too kind to my wallet either. 
Not that I'm a stranger to squeezing the shit out of a nickel. I've gotten good at it this handful of years, but what's that saying? Familiarity breeds contempt? And if there's one thing I'm more familiar with than my plants, it's a wallet that doesn't have much flexibility. Yes, it's still the same jacobs ladder wallet that I've had for three or four years(?) at this point, but the flexibility I am gaining in at-home yoga has yet to translate to my finances. 
This month has been a continual state of worry for my plants. They don't know what to do with the cold, much like myself. 
Anyhow.
January has been full. The month began with plans and forming expectations for the upcoming year. 
It's continued with a kitchen disco ball, taking off dead leaves from my plants, wearing hoodies to keep from getting too cold, and beginning a new sourdough starter; Agatha: The Second. 
It's been a month of reminders that no day goes according to plan.
"The best-laid plans of mice and men...leave us naught but grief and pain", but it's seemed that the mice have continued to run the show. Although to be honest, I'm still trying to figure out of its mice or just rats. A Rat in the Kitchen, you might ask? Either way this month, I've decided to not let rodents ruin my day, no matter how many times they shit on boxes of food or nibble on my favorite crackers. 
Also, consider this me adding a plastic resealable flour bin to my Amazon wish list. 

The last week of January has been fraught with random happenings and chance encounters with shadows. Shadows of my old self, and the anxiousness that comes with not knowing what will happen. When will I get paid again, and will it be enough to cover my rent, or will I have to squeeze more shit out of a handful of nickels? 
Another day, another worry. Another month, another round of uncertainty. 
2022 is the year I turn 31, which is a little odd to me. Mostly considering I didn't think I'd made it this far. Life certainly does surprise you. And if there's one thing I'm used to, it's rolling with the punches. Literally, and physically. 
Be kind, February. Not that I'm counting on it. But I'm counting on myself to continue to duck and roll, and hopefully, I'll end up on top. Right now, I'd settle for being on a rooftop. But the cold makes that a smidge more difficult. I guess that's what layering is for.

February; please be kind. 

Eat well, and take care of yourself,
T. Christian