January stretches on. I can’t say I’m sad to see it end, even I have my limits of enduring cold mud. And of course the week of entrapment due to snow didn’t help paint these thirty one days in a favorable light. I have been reading Sean Dietrich’s column for years. I was all about him for the longest. You know we even exchanged a few emails after I won a little contest he had….even though he accidentally announced in his podcast another person as the winner. It wasn’t the end of the world, and he went to the trouble of sending me a specially selected matchbox Chevy truck. After awhile, his columns started getting a bit repetitive, waxing nostalgic about his father who committed suicide. I tried to be sympathetic because we’re told to write what we know about. And writing is good therapy, too. So I got to skimming those. And the baseball ones. I don’t care for baseball, unless I’m watching it in person, in the shade, with a beer in one hand and Cracker Jacks in the other. But to give him credit, he did try to make them entertaining. Then Covid came along, and I was up to my eyeballs with every bit of that immediately. So I quit reading him altogether because of all the triggers. Then he got this blind bloodhound and suckered me back in. But lately I’ve been on the outs…