This is what I am thinking to myself, as the New Year pulls up the zip on the body bag of the Old Year and bounces fresh and spry into its place.
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, I welcomed in the New Year in style. The 'soo drunk on celebratory drinks that I have no idea why everyone's suddenly cheering and kissing.. what's the occasion?' kind of style.
That was a long time ago.
And prior to those kinds of New Years, I would spend the evening looking introspectively at my previous year, and meticulously write down resolutions for the next 365 days. Then never look at my list ever again.
This year, I said goodbye to the final hour of 2011 by throwing together a new banner for my blog.
Party hard dudes.
Scowled at the fireworks let off by the neighbours. If they wake the kids, by crickey... And when the Lad wandered by and asked if I'd made any resolutions, I could only think of one thing to say.
"Something in the vicinity of where I'm sitting smells really bad. Like, dead animal bad. It keeps coming to me in drifts. Can you smell it?"
The Lad looks at me blankly. Not the answer he was expecting.
Remembering his original question, I share what vague New Year Resolution I've come up with. It's predictable, yes. But it's all I've got. Make this year really count with the kids - it's Bree's last year before she starts school. Indie's last year before he's on the list for kindy. Maybe even Char's last year before she starts formulating ways and means to go flatting with friends - gods forbid. So maybe I should make a resolution to teach her self-sufficiency. Better late than never, huh?
Then I think, I will reflect on this last year. But it's after midnight and I've turned back into a pumpkin. Too tired to consider much else aside from how comfy my bed will be when I clamber into it, I reflect on my year the cheats way. Thank you handy facebook application.
I put together a photo montage of the year in review.
Once upon a time, I'd stay awake to see in the sunrise. Or at least try to. Now...
"Wait, is it your work socks?" I frown at his feet. No socks. Hmm...
The Lad stands me up, sits in my place. Sniffs my bum. Undignified, I tell him to sniff his own. Still, the stench of carcass cannot be located. Maybe it's all in my head? The Lad can't even smell it, and insists I have a ghost living in my nostrils. Or words to that effect.
I resolve myself to check behind the computer desk in the morning (the later morning) and wander off to bed.
And this is the way we see in our New Year.
Happy New Year to you and yours :)