There’s something post-apocalyptic about January. Maybe it’s because Christmas is over. Maybe it’s because a new year is always a little bit scary. It stretches out toward the horizon, long and endless, full of unpredictable twists. Maybe it’s because summer and vacations and swimming pools seem so far away. The weather is miserable. Usually. And when the weather is great — it’s been pretty great! — something still comes along to ruin it. Does any other state get pollen blizzards in January? Not like Florida. Gesundheit!
Denial, and the 40-year-old kick in the keaster
Whew! Whew! Whew! Breathe. Slowly. Deeply. Whew! Whew! Whew! Isn’t that what they teach you in birthing classes? And Yoga? And if you’re about to jump out of an airplane? Or be run over by a herd of buffalo? Control your breathing. Take slow, deep breaths. Relax. Whatever you do … don’t freakin’ freak out!
Attack of the new car bells and whistles
To buy a new car or not to buy a new car? That is Shakespeare’s great cliché … I mean struggle. Because I don’t really want a new car. And I don’t entirely need one. But it’s beginning to look like that’s the future. Yeesh! I don’t drive all that much. A trip to the grocery store is a long journey for me. The mileage on my cars is so low that mechanics wonder how I managed to roll back the digital odometers.
You want predictions? I’ll give you predictions
No Mayan apocalypse, eh? And I was really banking on that one. Had been prepping. What am I going to do with all these cans of soup, dried beans and gas masks? Darn the world for not ending like it was supposed to! Now I have to go back to work, actually buy new socks and figure out why my motion-detecting floodlights no longer detect motion. Frammer jammer!