“Perfection is the enemy of progress,” according to Winston Churchill. It’s the time of year when we try to do too much, change too quickly. Already expectations are lowering, and reality is setting in. The sky is gray, the temperatures cold, and I am coming to grips with the fact that I cannot eat toffee every day. (At least, not a lot of toffee every day.) It’s the mid-January new year letdown. More people die this time of year than on average. I imagine they make it through the holidays, finish off the toffee, take down the tree, look out at the gray weather, decide the New Year is not looking significantly better than the previous one and give up the effort to keep on living. I spoke with my grouchy friend yesterday. This is the same grouchy friend who has cursed my cheerfulness in the past and is a source of unflagging pessimism -- so I should have known what was coming. He says there is no cause for rejoicing in the new year. He says the days are growing longer, and that…