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!
Remember the Mayan apocalypse? How the world was supposed to end on Dec. 21? We held off wrapping Christmas presents, just in case. We were more concerned about it than the Fiscal Cliff. Maybe they should have called it the Mayan Fiscal Apocalyptic Cliff. More people would have tuned in. But we survived them both. The predictions of our doom were slightly exaggerated. Way to go, Mayans.
Eh … predictions are hard. Tough to make. I should know. I’ve been compiling my own list for 2013. A look ahead at how the year is going to shake down (probably). Here’s what I think:
• My dream of teaching our chickens to jump through a flaming hoop will be realized. Hooray! Now I can rent them out to the circus and start recouping my costs. (“But they give me eggs,” you say?!? Pshaw! I’m tired of eggs. They need to start bringing in cold, hard cash!) Unfortunately, one will scorch her tail feathers while stopping mid-jump for a piece of stale popcorn. The animal rights groups will make a mockery of me. The big top dream will also come to an end in 2013.
• My life-long quest for a paperless house will be realized when we switch to papyrus. Say, is that recyclable?
• I will finally get off the fence about buying a new car. Now, I won’t actually buy a new car. I just won’t sit on the fence anymore thinking about it. It’s terribly uncomfortable. I’ll probably just sit on the sofa. Or my desk chair. Fewer marks on the hindquarters.
• Speaking of cars … I predict I will wash one in 2013. But only because of some calamity. I only wash cars due to calamity. What will it be? I predict a hot dog with ketchup and mustard falling from the sky will strike my car. That will move me to action.
• My dog will stop using her raggedy nails on the screen door to let me know she wants to come in. Instead, she’ll start using an oak tree branch. That will be more effective.
• Speaking of the dog … I predict it will be at least two months before she throws up in the house again. She has a habit of eating feline … how do I say this delicately? … bio-hazardness and then … again, searching for delicate words here … reintroducing it to the world. She always does this inside my house. It’s more comfortable inside, right? Last time was over the holiday, while my mother- and sister-in-law were watching my kid. We got frantic voicemail messages that sounded like the dying cries of sailors on a sinking ship: “Help us! We’re drowning here! It’s awful! Tell the world we died heroically! Dog puke smell kills!!!”
Then they fled the house. They sat in the car until we came home. The smell even drove the dog out. She took up quarters on the front porch. She apologized profusely. She admitted she had a problem and offered to go to CPEA (Cat Poop Eaters Anonymous.) We opened up all the doors and windows to get the smell out — the horrible, Mayan-apocalyptic smell. It was 45 degrees outside, and we sat huddled at the dinner table shivering while we ate scrambled eggs (the only contribution the chickens have made toward the rent.)
Two months! Two months and I predict it all happens again!
• I will finally get that long-awaited tattoo of Justin Bieber on my left bicep. Been a long time comin’.
• Someone will decide the Mayans messed up their math. That they were off by a year due to a carrying error. The real end of the world will be Dec. 21, 2013 at 11:45 a.m. This will set off a soup-buying stampede. And this will either be the day I finally decide to buy a new car … or when I get that chicken to jump through a flaming hoop. It will all be for naught.
Anyway, happy New Year and good luck!