Tuesday night, I arrived just before the start of weekly trivia, and all of my team members had already order their drinks and food. As I surveyed our reserved table, they were drinking a variety of water, soda water, and soft drinks. When my usual Miller Lite was set in front of me, they glared. “Don’t you know it’s dry January?”

Of course, I knew it was January; I’ve yet to lose all my marbles. “Yep, named after the Roman two-faced god, Janus.”

“You’re supposed to lay off the booze in January.”

“For the entire month? Can’t you have a dry martini?

“No!”

“Well, pardon me. Guess I missed that memo and am drinking alone tonight. Do you want me to join another team that drinks tonight?”

“No, you cant sit here because you know literature and Broadway.”

I felt so self-conscious. I wanted to sip by my beer under the table, for I was breaking the Dry January rules. To add a bit of levity to my guilt, I asked, “Does dry January also apply to sex?”

“Just in your case! You haven’t had any in years!”

“Touche.”

At the end of the first round of questions, the trivia host took fifteen or so minutes to tally scores. I went to the restroom, sat on the procelain throne and contemplated dry January. Certainly, the skin on my hands, arms, and legs is flaking off like dandruff. Dry January. Certainly, in Phoenix as of today, (1/19/2025), no measurable rain has fallen in 151 days! Dry January.

And tomorrow, (Monday), begins the long, four-year, very dry spell of sanity.