For what it's worth, it's already next year for me. At lunch today, we had a toast (with non-alcoholic sparkling cider) and wished each other happy new year. My buddy and I discussed resolutions on the way home. I even played the Sinatra channel in the car to put us in the swanky party mood. I'm calling it. I'm done with 2021. I'm in next year now.
I was one of four servers for the toast. I provided the foil and paperboard tiaras for all of us. I kind of wish I had tried harder to find fancier getups, but this was good enough for the 10 minutes we were running plastic flutes of sparkling cider to the club. I was going to wear a black and gold sequin top to be obnoxiously decorative, but it didn't fit right. Quelle dommage.
I had to hurry home after the meeting to babysit my sweetheart while her parents went to an appointment. We watched about half of Sleeping Beauty, until she followed suit and fell asleep. We got in maybe 30-35 minutes of sleep before her grandpa burst into the house, tromping around and chattering at the cats. Naptime was over. So we got up and let her play in the bath until right before her parents got back. This was much easier than yesterday, when she was so energetic. These are the days when I feel like I have the grandma magic.
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