I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions. I’m not even one for staying up until midnight on New Year’s Eve (I was singing “Auld Lang Syne” to my pillow at 10:30, thank you very much). But something tells me that 2015 is going to be my year.
My problem is that something tells me this every year – and that something is rarely right. So I figured I’d throw in a little New Year’s resolution self-improvement to karmically sweeten the deal.
My first resolution is for my beloved wife.
Resolved: I shall neither form opinions nor comment on the opinions of others until I have finished at least one big mug of morning coffee.
Resolved: I will get rid of my golf ball collection in a manner that is – at the very least – mildly amusing.
Suggestions are welcome.
Since I started this blog three years ago I have broken bread with five blog pals and met at least a dozen more. I am delighted to report that every single one of them was funny, charming and interesting. I am still a bit gobsmacked by this. Seriously, what are the odds? Maybe I’m tempting fate, but I want to meet more!
Resolved: I will meet more blog buddies in person.
In other words, if you reside in or visit New Jersey, New York City, or Eastern Pennsylvania, feel free to hit me up for coffee.
When I was in college, I earned a reputation as a skilled Laundry Fellow. One time when I was in the Laundromat folding a load of colors, a female classmate I had a nodding relationship with – let’s call her Liz – entered with her meathead boyfriend. She was there to do Mr. Meathead’s laundry for him. (Don’t even get me started.)
I nodded to Liz, as I usually did, and resumed my folding. After a few minutes, I realized that the laundromat was unusually silent. I looked up from my work to find both Liz and her meathead staring at me as if I was some kind of circus animal.
“I bet you iron, too,” Liz said with a contemptuous smile.
“Well, if you fold the clothes when they’re still warm,” I replied, “in many cases you don’t have to iron.”
It was at that moment I could see Mr. Meathead’s brain drawing conclusions about my sexual identity.
Since those days, my laundry muscles have atrophied. I still do loads without having to be asked, but washing my wife’s clothes have made things more complicated and intimidating. (Delicate cycles? Wha?) At times I feel like a babe in the laundry woods.
Resolved: I will become a Laundry Master.
Here’s the obligatory writing one:
Resolved: I shall write early and often.
I already sort of do this. But I plan to write earlier and often-er. And with more gusto. I also want to get my word counts up.
Rebekah, one of my blog pals, banged out 14,000 words in one day for NaNoWiMo. Let me say right here and now that I have no plans to challenge this record.
And the big finish:
Resolved: I will do something bold, yet well-planned.
I can’t do bold without my boldness being well-planned. And yes, I already have something planned. ‘Cause that’s the way I roll; I plan my planning!