Only two days left in 2009, and I won’t miss it one bit. It’s been a real bitch as the years go, and that’s not just the recession talking. While I was out recently, someone asked the group, “Any new year’s resolutions?” My wit was clearly unappreciated, “I think all of mine are dirty.” Perhaps thinking I might be poised to elaborate (I wasn’t), she disappeared not to return.
I do have some resolutions, though I prefer not to think of them as such. It makes me feel cliche and old, especially given the list: Exercise more. Cook at home. Write, read, draw, and generally be productive rather than watching movies and surfing the pipes.
I picked up my bike with I__ last night. The lock’s so un-used that I tore up my knuckle unlocking it. Again.
Kid juggling has been going incredibly well, all things considered. When we first talked about it in the fall, K__ was adamant that we provide some kind of regular structure to the schedule. The chaos will be intense enough as it is. I wholeheartedly agreed, but mostly because I like being able to plan at least three or four days out. Occasionally, it’d be nice to know a week or two in advance if I can pull off a long weekend adventure–it doesn’t happen often, but I’d like to be able when it does.
The big split went down around Thanksgiving and I didn’t even bother trying to revisit this notion knowing that the Christmas holidays would run a lot smoother if I just greased the wheels with a bit of patience and flexibility. Christmas’ box has been checked off with a festive, fat, red pen and only New Year’s is left. K__ is taking I__ up to A__ for a long weekend, so not only am I paying for it up front with a longer-than-usual string of nights in a row, but (K__ announced last night) she had plans for the following (long) weekend and could-I-cover-that-too.
I have a good time with I__, and it’s no major hassle. I was curious what she was up to since all the important relatives will have been visited. I asked, but the subject was conveniently changed, and I didn’t bring it back up. Once again, visions of a tryst with her boyfriend danced uncontrollably in my head, imaginary though it may be. I realized a few weeks ago, I don’t care–do what you want; I plan to. I don’t feel the pangs of regret, nausea, and instantaneous diarrhea when I contemplate it anymore, but the morbid intellectual curiosity is beyond my power to shut down. It’s like a math problem I know is just within reach to solve if I would just give it a few more moments of concentration. It’ll be somewhat of a test of my own resolve, but I won’t be inquiring again. Let someone else discover what two plus two equals if you convert to base whatever-the-fuck first. I can always google it later if it really matters.
I haven’t had people over to my new place yet, and I’ve been thinking about a post-midnight New Year’s “Eve” party. Like all such fantasies, I’m terrified that no one will show up. More likely, I’ll end up with more party than I can handle, no space for the drunken to crash, annoyed neighbors, unfriendly cops, and every bit as cold a bed as I would have had spending the evening alone. Such drama is for the young, and I have no patience for it anymore. Except of course, it feeds the fire here, and in light of that, how can I not bow to the power of the great-story-that-could-be?