I rang in the new year with my traditional falling-asleep-before-midnight routine, but know it rang in because both dogs started barking when the fireworks went off. I pulled a pillow over my head and went back to sleep.
3:30 AM – The smoke detector goes off downstairs. I get up, go downstairs, find the broom, and use the broom handle to turn it off. No fire.
4:00 AM – The smoke detector goes off again. No fire. I turn it off and go back to bed.
4:1o AM – The smoke detector goes off again. No fire. It’s a hard-wired smoke detector so I know it’s not the battery. I find the ladder, climb up and detach it from the ceiling. Said smoke detector goes on my bedside table just in case the damn thing is haunted and is thinking about going off sans electrical source.
4:20 AM – Thorin Oakenpuppy is wide awake and restless. I am wide awake and reading all about smoke detectors that go off for no apparent reason on Google. It turns out that I am not alone. More than a few people have been serenaded by “the song of our people” in the middle of the night.
Fall back asleep finally, but take a long nap in the afternoon. Thorin Oakenpuppy naps in his kennel in my bedroom because his new bad habit is barking in the kitchen when he can’t see me.
Get up, go to Walmart to buy leftover Christmas decorations for next year, kitty litter, and dog food. The lines are exceptionally long and I feel a bit overdressed because I have actual clothes on and didn’t wear my “dress sleepwear”. Or a thong for that matter. Or curlers.
I bought Mongolian beef from my favorite Chinese restaurant on the way home, and decided that Stella Rossi is my new favorite red and is destined to be my house wine. It also goes quite well with Downton Abby even though it is Italian and not British (are there even vineyards in England?). I have a giant crush on Mr. Bates. I have a girl crush on the Dowager. I hope I’m that cool when I am old.
The Christmas holiday was spent with my parents where we continued the family tradition of avoiding each other by binge reading in separate rooms. It was a nice enough Christmas. Mom managed to resist pointing out my inadequacies (too fat, too single, too childless) until the night before I left, and for once, I didn’t take it personally. It was a weird detatched little moment for me. All her life she had issues about her own mother because she was not adequate enough (in other words “female”) and in that instant she sounded so much like my grandmother.
Funny how behavior patterns get passed down through generations.
Although she apologized the next morning and I said it was fine, the truth of the matter is that it still reinforces the idea of not being good enough.
Finally, it looks like I will be buying a house instead of going to New Zealand this summer. Honestly, I’d rather spend the money on travel, but the house needs a new roof and new floors, and there is the downpayment to consider.
Richard Armitage is late with his traditional New Year selfie. Here’s last year’s. It seems like there was criticism of last year’s selfie, but I like it. To me it is one of the rare photos of him where he doesn’t look stressed out and tired.
Happy New Year to all my readers, and thank you. I’m amazed that anyone reads my ramblings here. Thank you again.