It’s after 11 pm and I am wallowing here, sipping my hot NeoCitran, sensing pain pulsations popping up and subsiding in all my muscles and joints all over my body. I’m a little pile of misery. And one that can’t sleep despite trying for the past three hours.
January 1st isn’t supposed to be like this. I am supposed to spend it couch potato style nursing a hangover, drifting in and out of sleep. I’m supposed to return to the land of the living sometime around 5 pm, go fuel in standing position in front of the open fridge and then call it a day.
Today I woke in the right – the traditional – physical state, but was immediately bombarded by the thought of our plans to take a two hour hike in the afternoon with neighbors, followed by a 60th birthday dinner – in other words, not the type of date you can easily cancel. My husband dropped a second bomb with the news that they are leaving to go skiing tomorrow, not the day after. I had about five loads of laundry to get done today. My couch potato ambitions were completely thwarted. I felt robbed.
Despite the shining sun, crisp air, nice people and good food, I am officially declaring this day null and void. “D0-OVER!!” I am calling. Or “Mulligan!” As far as I am concerned, it never happened and 2016 begins tomorrow. In about 15 minutes I am going to listen to the Blue Danube Waltz and wish you all a “Happy New Year!”