It’s at the point now where my brain won’t function well enough to formulate what might be a worthwhile New Year’s resolution. After all, these things require careful consideration. I’m not the kind of person who puts much stock in the notion of the first of January necessitating a conscious effort to better oneself, but I’m all for bettering oneself in general, and why not now, anyway, since it’s cold and dark and you have nothing better to do? In lieu of a resolution for myself, I thought of possibly compiling a list of resolutions for other people in my life, but then it struck me that that could only come off as the kind of Erma Bombeck-on-a-bad-day columns that “senior appeal” writers use to poke fun at — but not really poke fun at — the usual cast of stock characters. (The meddling in-law, the overly chatty co-worker, congressional fat cats, puke, puke, puke.) In lieu of the in-lieu-of, I’m making one single resolution: that the awful woman who pushes her shopping cart like it’s a baby carriage near my office should stop accusing my female co-workers of having killed her mother. Because they didn’t. The average age of the women I work with has to be 35 tops, and, based on Screaming Sally’s looks, I’d guess her mom was dead and cold long before most of my coworkers were born. Furthermore, I’d say the vast majority of people at my office — male or female — are incapable of murder. Thus, she really needs to stop. As a replacement for “You killed my mother!” I’d suggest something like “Hello, how are you doing” or its saucier cousin “Hey hot stuff.”
That is all for 2007. Onward, to the longer — and therefore better — 2008.