I’m not ready for January
I have turkey gravy on my bright green solid coloured shirt. It shows.
We finished the gravy* last night.
This is a clean shirt, put on gravy-free this morning.**
Do you suppose quantum physics can answer this one?
* * *
It’s December 31st, for about an hour and a half longer, as I write this. So, what have I done with my 2011?
FAILED to write PEG II. Sigh.
2012 is going to be better. Starting with getting some relatively readable the-end-is-in-sight form of SHADOWS sent in by the end of January.***
So, other prognostications?
By this time next year I will be halfway through the NEW PEG II.
I will also be ringing touches of Cambridge minor.†
And on handbells.††
And, this time next year, the New Arcadia Singers will be hurling impassioned emails at each other about the spring concert, because (after our unexpected success earlier in the year) we haven’t quite nailed the playlist yet and practise starts again the first week of January.
Fantasy, much? Oh . . . well . . .
HAPPY NEW YEAR
* * *
1. And gods don’t they stare.
2. I left my jumper on. No one knows.††† And a good thing too. I was introduced to someone who reads me.
3. Those are my Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse All Stars. It seemed suitable.
4. I am now drinking my champagne.
5. I have to ring more bells in seven hours. Feh.
* * *
* Peter had to make more, of course. Next on the list: More brandy butter. Next on the list: living on lettuce for the entire month of January. Oh, well, in the circumstances I’d better have some protein too. Fried liver of rival publisher. Incompetent copyeditor roast.
** And I have to go ring bells in a few minutes^, and it’s so warm I’m going to have to take my jumper off and stand revealed as a slob. It’s also so warm that I didn’t have tricky winter weather as an excuse not to go ring bells at midnight. Which is to say yes, when I rang Felicity back this morning, having still not quite decided what I was going to say to her, she was so delighted to hear from me I heard myself agreeing to come along tonight. It’s now sheeting. Ugh. Also very unseasonable of it. But maybe all the staring villagers will stay home and watch Singin’ in the Rain or something. Much better value.
^ And sulking, since I want my champagne now.
† With what band and in what tower, I have no idea. I’ll worry about that next year. In an hour and a half.
††† Except you, of course.
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