Vague New Year

I have no resolutions or plans, which apparently isn’t at all radical, fresh, or interesting this year, but rather mundane. Peeps don’t seem to be plannin’. We’re tired. We figure, well 2012 sucked, so we’ll just see how this thing goes. Can’t be much worse, right? And it’s already been raining, so there’s that.

I’ve checked my first poast of 2012, which also was free of resolutions, but had plans and ideas and goals, and seemed generally full of energy and optimism. Bah.

Yesterday I hadn’t much energy ~ I dusted but never vacuumed, forex. The vacuum is slumped against the wall this morning, mocking me. Maybe I’ll do it before work. Is 8AM too early to vacuum? I ate a healthy salad, but today it’s doubtful I’ll eat healthy. There’s a writing critique meeting tonight at a diner, and that kinda means pie for dinner. You know how it is.

Speaking of that group, our leader is out of commission, so I am in charge. Yes, it is true. I have the briefcase and the codes. Don’t mess with me.

I have no expectations of getting published or having a romance anytime soon, or ever.

My father has deteriorated further and no longer knows who I am.

So 2013. Whatever.


6 responses to “Vague New Year

  1. The situation with your father is heartbreaking. I’m so sorry you’re having to go through it.

    I completely agree with the sentiment that “we’re tired.” Given all the large scale instability and difficulty and flat-brokery, everyone I know or talk to seems just too exhausted to worry anymore. Resolutions for a whole year? Please. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If we make it through today, then we’ll deal with tomorrow. Looking ahead whole weeks and months is just sillytalk.

    Pie is a healthy dinner, dur. It involves fruit.


  2. I think our resolution should be to really know that we’re doing the best we damned well can, without any resolutions. It’s never too early to vacuum. And it’s never too early–or late–to admire your own fortitude in the face of the situation with your dad.


  3. What David said.

    And about your dad: It must be awful not to be recognized, not to even have that. I wish you strength – and some awesome breaks from the dull blade that is life. 😉


  4. Heartbreaking, very much. My dad only didn’t know me the last time I saw him because of all the pain meds, and that was the night he died. He was entirely lucid three days before. so I feel we were fortunate, and am doubly sad for you and him.

    Yah, 8’s too early, you ever hear what a vacuum cleaner sounds like when you live on the floor below? So do it anyway, and then leave for work being very visible with a Sawzall in your paws and blood and sawdust on your clothes, that’ll quiet ’em.

    As suggested elsewhere, I can’t complain about 2012 because 2013 will, for me, be a lot worse.


  5. I’m trying not to just tabulate the bad things happening already and saying “uh oh: gonna be a bad one.” Resisting that urge is taking quite a lot of energy.

    But I did learn how to perfectly cook a soft boiled egg, so life is good! Plus my son introduced me to WorkFlowy and I will now have the comforting delusion for a couple days that I’ll manage to get things done.

    I am so sorry about your dad, about how that must feel. I think I will go and cry a little now for you and for all of us.


  6. I think 2012 was a pain in the ass. Everything seemed more negative than usual. I’m sorry to hear about your dad. I think that big stuff like that, you can handle it and do OK, but underneath, it’s very stressful. Someone above said one day at a time. What choice? And the good thing about that is, every day has at least one thing good in it. I figure, hey, one out of sixty-seven, or sixty-eight or so, not bad!


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