If you’re reading this, you survived 2016. Congratulations!
The rollover of the new year is usually an excuse for me to drink champagne until I get a migraine, vomit, or both. I haven’t gotten excited about it since Y2k when everyone was sure the whole recently digitized world would collapse. That was a fun party. I stuck bugle chips up my nostrils and Turd ate them out of my nose. Turd (my actual nickname for him) was my twin flame. He was as close to my psychological clone as anyone could possibly be, which is why I cut him loose a year later. I’ve got enough crazy of my own to deal with.
When 2012 rolled over to 2013, my husband spent the night texting his girlfriend who was in Arizona for the holiday. That was delightful. I threw a keychain at his face several weeks later after I let the event simmer.
2013/2014 I was prepping for a colonoscopy.
2014/2015 I spent under a heating pad and fell asleep long before midnight.
2015/2016 I don’t even remember WTF we did.
Does it matter that none of my NYE’s have been particularly fun or exciting? Probably not. It’s on par with my life. I’m just happy to make it through another year with my faculties relatively intact.
Wherever you are, I hope you’re content and I wish you a fantastic beginning to 2017.
“May the best day of your past be the worst day of your future.”
“May we all be alive at this same time next year.”