Inasmuch as I lost my Christmas Spirit well before the holiday was over, and have been struggling all week to not prematurely pack up the Christmas Decorations -- for fear of breaking tradition and thus bring bad luck upon myself, I’m happy that tomorrow I can do so without repercussions.
On the other hand, I’m so not feeling 2017 is going to be a good year with that orange fellow -- the Manchurian Candidate soon to be in charge that I’m wishing today would never end. It would be like an episode of the Twilight Zone or Groundhog Day, where today just repeats itself and 2017 never comes.
I’m guessing I’m not alone in feeling reticent about the coming year, because there just seems to be a pall not just over the complex -- with the usual suspects not wanting to do anything, but a universal pall with so many celebrities opting out of this life and the dreary weather.
This is what outside looks like this morning …
It’s wet, raining off/on -- not storming, but the homes on the hill are blanketed from view by layers of cold.
The craving for caffeine is strong, plus I need to put gas in the car, so I’ll be bundling up against the cold and heading out soon.
I never did make it to the bank yesterday to drop off that found ATM card, so I mailed it to the bank’s corporate office. Worried I’d not be believed about finding the card, I started not to put a return address on the envelope but then … I may be wrong but, some years ago, I believe a regulation came into play that mail without return addresses would not be delivered. So I took a chance and put my label in the return spot. Now I have thoughts of the police and FBI knocking on my door, being informed the card was not lost but stolen, and I the most likely suspect.
Hopefully, my paranoia is unfounded and comes from watching too any crime shows, and though I'm glad for the card's owner that someone who would do the right thing found it, I'm not so thrilled at the involvement of that someone being me.
So anyway, unless I get my wish and 2016 loops itself tonight, I’ll be ringing in the New Year not with alcohol, but by throwing clean eating out the window with my own particular brand of intoxicant -- a pint of Ben and Jerry Cherry Garcia.