The Fifth Wheel Resolves

What does one do when they have a shitty time at my parents'? Well, if you're me, you go back for more. Yup, despite my aunt's enticements, I took the exit for I-65 again and spent New Year's as the proverbial fifth wheel. My parents invited another Methodist couple to spend the turning with them, so I'm sitting there, dying to double down on the champagne so I could ignore the fact that four people nearing retirement were kissing each other and therefore having more sexual contact than I've had in nearly a year. Ugh. I am pathetic.

So what did I resolve to do about this ridiculous state of affairs? Clean my apartment. Maybe I'd bring someone home if I didn't fear that my apartment would be compared unfavorably to the Black Hole of Calcutta. In fact, that is what I am currently procrastinating doing, writing this little epistle. Also (oh, this is so pathetically prosaic), to really lose some weight this year. I pretty much held steady this year, despite my hypomanic losses in April and May, which is better than gaining, but not much. Now, I know I am worthy of love no matter my weight, and guys who are too shallow to date a fat girl are probably going to be losers in my book anyway. BUT (and that's a damn big but, almost as big as mine) I am shallow enough to want to date a good-looking guy, so fair is fair. I hate calling them resolutions, the word stinks of failure, so let's call them goals, or something. Aims, ambitions, anything but that sad-assed "r" word.

Work has been going pretty well lately. I was exhausted last week, getting over the adrenaline rush of the holidays, and I think my boss was a little worried about me. I won a door prize at the uber-department post-holiday party. I'm not quite sure what it contains, but it's cute to look at. So my life isn't a complete shambles. That usually comes in February or March.