Today is the last day of the year, which means tonight is traditionally a time to party to welcome in the new year. I look forward to this evening less than I do a visit to the dentist, or getting up in front of a big crowd for a spot of public speaking. I dislike New Year’s Eve. A lot, and I’d rather clean up
10 20 of Rex’s poos off the carpet than be forced to celebrate with lots of people. And it’s not that I’m negative about the new year, or am dreading it – I’m actually excited and optimistic about 2011. Rather, New Year’s Eve is often a time of frenetic last-minute plans, drunks, and extreme pressure to do something cool, have fun and count down to 2011 in the most jovial way.
Over the years, on New Year’s Eve, I’ve, in no particular order:
– awkwardly hugged strangers
– left parties early to avoid the awkward hugs and kisses
– had shoe polish smeared on my face
– been stranded without a way home
– been too drunk and sick to make it to the new year
– stood awkwardly while all as a singleton, all my friends snogged their boyfriends at midnight
– been vomited on
– experienced a leak in the ceiling causing us to abandon ship and miss the turn of the year
– fallen asleep early because I was too depressed to stay awake until 12am because I wasn’t having The Time Of My Life.
My best New Year’s Eves have been spent at home with Dad, with some bubbly and a braai (and perhaps an attempt to beat my Boggle-for-iPad score), with no pressure to do anything/hug anyone/be the picture of happiness/stay awake until 12am! And even though most people now assume we stay in because of you, and because we don’t have a babysitter, it’s actually how we roll these days.
And tomorrow morning, we’ll hopefully wake up with a spring in our step (that is, if Rex hasn’t eaten another of your toys or caused more carnage in the house), and go for a run, with you in the jogger. And that, for us, is a good beginning.
Yours in at-home celebrations
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