Happy New Year’s Eve eve, dear reader! I’m kinda sorta still on vacation, except not really. Just tossing out a quick note as this tumultuous year draws to a close.
If you’re interested — and you are, obviously — I actually feel pretty good about the year ahead. Call me a cockeyed optimist, but a whole lot of people are excited about January 20. Half the country, actually. Could be they’re right. All I know is, the result could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.
And if they’re all wrong… well, at least that’ll be funny!
I also wanted to brag a bit about being seven years booze-free as of today. At the end of 2017, I started my New Year’s resolution to quit alcohol a couple of days early. Just to be obstinate. So far it’s the only resolution I’ve ever kept, and it’s lasted through both my first pandemic and the worst president of my lifetime. As rough as the past seven years have been, at least I’ve had one less problem to worry about. And I’ve saved enough money on hooch to buy a small used car, which I’m also much less likely to crash.
Bad things will keep happening in 2025. But good things will happen too. Our problems will be less important than how we conduct yourselves through them. That’s as close to any sort of wisdom as I can muster, I guess.
See you next year!
Congratulations on seven years of sobriety and best wishes for a Happy New Year!
Back at'cha. Your reliable vaccinations of recombinant snark are essential to what mental health I have. That, and cats, keep me going. Happy New Year, dammit. And rich congrats on the sobriety; that is something to be proud of indeed.