Taking down the house. All the red and gold must be tucked away. All nog dumped. I'm currently mapping out a route for our tree that will involve the least amount of mess. As quick as that shit goes up, it comes down all the faster. These are the words I say every year.
I rang in the year stuffing my face with artichoke dip. Appropriate. I ended the night completely obliterating some stranger's ego. I started my day with tea and a run. Looks like I'll be staying the course for another year.
I have no lofty goals, unless facing my fear of Stephen King and starting the Dark Tower series can be considered a resolution. It's good. I'm on page eight and have committed myself to a night of reading in stinking running clothes.
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