Dateline 2021: January 1^st, Happy New Year

I start 2021 by missing the ball drop. Yup. I am doing some research (exciting, right?) and miss the yearly event by ten whole seconds. Ooops.

So, this is how it’s going to be, 2021.

I stay up until about 1:00 a.m., sleep until 7:00, get up, open the blinds, shut off the night and outside lights, and promptly go back to bed. I sleep another two hours and stay in bed another hour after that catching up on games and emails and social media on my cell phone..

Kiss off, 2021; you’re going to be a carbon copy of your predecessor. Or worse.

I know everyone wishes this to be a better year. I just don’t see it. There’s a predicted snow and ice storm for later in the day, one that has a potential to turn into a multi-day event when a second system pops through. The weather report says “slick travel,” which looks more like “SUCK TRAVEL” and is probably more accurate and more appropriate to describe the upcoming year.

Yup, no going anywhere, folks: SUCK travel.

I’m going to pretend I’m ready, though. So far, in addition to missing the official ball drop and retreating back to bed to pretend 2021 doesn’t exist, I have also chased down a couple of random flies with my handy-dandy fly-swatter (this is what happens when the weather just won’t stay consistently cold), examined my new Bob Ross sticky notes, watched some of the original Godzilla from 1956 (which is how I started this whole pandemic back in the spring, addicted to SyFy and Comet TV), and had lovely tea in my “Go fuck yourself” mug.

Go ahead, though. I’ll try not to spoil it for you. Go ahead and pretend and believe that 2021 will be better. I mean, 2020 wasn’t so bad, other than the pandemic. And the election. And the hybrid school model. And the toilet paper hoarding. And the wild fires. And the earthquakes. And the Boston sports teams imploding.

Okay, fuck it. Maybe I’ll just go back to bed until the next Times Square ball drop. I’m ready. I have 364 more days to prep.