January, at least to me, is the worst month of the year. Indeed, it’s the ultimate meh month.

In fact, January basically is an appendix burst of bilious disillusionment.

It begins with a hangover, our voices coarse and littered with holiday parties’ residue. And it’s all downhill from there.

For instance, it’s always cold, miserable and either gray or dark. And there simply is no magic floating in the air. If the months of the year were a coloring book, January would be devoid of vivid colors.

Granted, February is a lousy mouth as well but at least it is shorter than January and has the Super Bowl and Valentine’s Day on its calendar.

January is a drag because we have the post-holiday blues, we’re broke after spending too much on Christmas, we’re dieting, we’re saddled with New Year’s resolutions, we’re going to the gym, we’re sneezing and coughing our lungs up, we’re so over winter, and we’re grouchier than Oscar.

January is boring as well. Nobody seems to party. People instead hunker down at home, morose and remote in their pajamas as depression spreads in their stomachs like wet cement.

After all, who wants to venture outside and walk bent over into the wicked wind as though we want to break ourselves in half but cannot?

Even Donald Trump has had trouble attracting top stars to perform at his inauguration. I’m not sure if that has anything to do with politics or that fewer people go out in January.

Of course, having Trump assume the presidency will give this January some pop -- good and/or bad.

To underscore how bad January is, it houses Blue Monday -- the third Monday of January. It reportedly is the most depressing day of the year.

Apparently Blue Monday is overpopulated with snipping little terrors that are a psychiatric goldfield. Sounds like a good day to sleep in and go to bed early.

I don’t mean to pile on, but statistically January is the most prevalent month for breakups. Couples call it quits because of post-Christmas stress, wanting a fresh start in the New Year, financial problems, family pressures, and exchanging gunfire daily over who gets stuck walking the dog in depressing weather.

January also is when those of us who don’t wait until April 14 to start preparing our taxes begin gathering our financial data and digging for business-expense receipts in restaurant dumpsters. How depressing is that.

No wonder by the time we get through January, we all feel as if we’ve been worked over with a tire iron.

Our journey through the month may not be quite as harrowing as Napoleon’s disastrous retreat from Moscow.

But it’s close.

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