Resisting the New Year

I don’t suppose I should feel guilty for spending most of this week napping. I recommend it for those who aren’t sure what to do with themselves. Napping is 1) enjoyable 2) nourishing to the imagination 3) restful 4) relaxing 5) easy to justify and 6) a better alternative to snacking.

Having built up my napping reserve, I’m headed into the new year with a slightly wonky back, wearing a shiny layer of sparkly makeup and silver hoop earrings, holding my sweetie, and possessed of a great appetite for champagne, or reasonably tasty methode champegnoise.

I’m never sure what to think of New Year’s Eve. It seems like a booby trapped occasion, much like the equally dubious Valentine’s Day. At least New Year’s seems less commercially contrived in its origins.

As I consider my options in the face of the new year, I try to resist the tide of doubt that washes of over me whenever I’m in life evaluation mode. Instead of wallowing in the contemplation of things left undone, incomplete, or inadequate (a tempting option), I’m opting to embrace small joys and pleasures. The pleasure of my friends’ company. The joys of waffles with strawberries and syrup. The sweetness of falling asleep and waking up next to someone I love.

I’m going to cling to what I know nourishes me, instead of being tempted by the thoughts that will tear me down, one nudging small sadness at a time. So here’s to resisting the cold tide and choosing to swim in a warmer body of water: May your thoughts, wishes and dreams bring you joy. Happy New Year.

Tonight’s reward

Tonight I get to read. What I want: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.
I figure I don’t have to be perfectly structured and achieving at all times. (Right?) I’ve got homework covered for the week. I’ve updated my blog site. I’ve submitted memoir chapters to nine literary venues in two days. I’ve done laundry and dishes. I’ve attended class. I’ve napped and tried to take it easy so I can return to work. Tonight, I made miso soup so I could finally drink something other than tea and juice. I’m coughing pretty badly, and feeling sorry for my sick self. So I get to read. There. More interesting blogs to follow in the ripeness of time.
(PS: I’m trying to be Reasonable Girl, because I don’t have a choice. I sound like an old smoker when I hack and cough. I’m all mucus and viscous across multiple facial orifices. It’s pity party and distraction time.)