NOTHING TOPS GETTING MUGGED BY A WOODPILE IN JANUARY

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SATURDAY, January 25, 1992                   TAG: 9201250030
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: EXTRA 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: 
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium
NOTHING TOPS GETTING MUGGED BY A WOODPILE IN JANUARY
The county came and got the Christmas tree, and it made me feel a little sad.
That's the way it is with Christmas trees.
One day they're standing there all full of lights, and the next they're lying naked in a ditch waiting for the county to pick them up and feed them into a shredder.
When I was a boy, there was a woman on the street who avoided strong emotions about getting rid of her Christmas tree. She kept it up until late March, and it died at home among friends.
January is the kind of month that makes you sit around and think about similarities between the fate of your late Christmas tree and life in general. January has been going on now for six months, and I'm beginning to hope that it gets out of here pretty soon.
I certainly wouldn't want to get stuck in January.
It's a weird month. For example, the kickoff in the Super Bowl is scheduled for 6:17 p.m.
Everybody knows 6:17 p.m. is a real nothing time of the day.
It is certainly not the kind of hour for partying, which I am not going to do anyway.
I was deep into January depression the last time we had a Super Bowl party, and let me assure you that the tempo was not a threat to anybody's heart.
Yes, sir. Ho. Ho. We really had a time that night. Everybody dozed off before the chili was ready.
January also is the time you start to worry about your woodpile and you find that your woodpile can hurt you.
Like a good husbandman, I covered my wood with this huge plastic tarpaulin. I tied one end down to the fence and weighted the other end.
You have to take the weights off when you are getting wood, however.
The wind came up while I was getting wood. The end of the cover that was not tied to the fence beat me up pretty bad.
It's embarrassing to have to tell nosy people that all of those wounds around your head were caused by your woodpile.
And you overhear people saying: "That's Old Bennie there. His woodpile hurt him bad that time."
And I think some of the neighbors saw me losing the fight with the woodpile cover.
But none of you need to worry about me. I'll get through it somehow, even if I have to go to bed for the rest of the month.
Go ahead and have your Super Bowl party, if that's what you think you've got to do.
But just remember that it's January, and don't come whining to me if your guests either cry a lot or fall asleep in their chili bowl.

by Archana Subramaniam by CNB