by Rita Klundt

For Roger and me, 2018 rang in very much like last year. The left-over roast, with potatoes and carrots, made for a fine New Year’s Eve dinner. Thank God for microwaves. The house had been completely Christmas de-decorated by 5 PM. The only task remaining is to discover which stubborn ornament didn’t make its way into the red and green Rubbermaid tubs. But not to worry. It will reveal itself sometime around Valentine’s Day.

Our big celebration plans included sweat shirts with unmatched sweat pants, fleece blankets, and re-runs. This year, it was Sonny and Cher followed by an old episode of Law and Order. We talked about popcorn or nachos, but why sabotage the diet we were starting on January 1, 2018. Adding some ambiance and romance by lighting a candle and moving the table that separates our recliners was a good idea, but Roger is recovering from an emergent appendectomy. He still has a weight lifting restriction, and I was tired after unclipping every single light on our 7 ½ foot pre-lit Christmas tree.

Yes, pre-lit trees can be re-lit. Is it wise? Probably not. The scratches on my hands and the bruising on my fingertips have me convinced that the six hours of time invested in my project would have been better spent trotting form store to store, in the bitter cold, shopping for a new pre-lit tree for Christmas 2018. I do hope I can find replacement lights on sale, and that clipping them on all those individual branches next December won’t require much more than the six hours I’ve already invested. Roger did vow not to interfere with my work or belittle my project with sarcasm, but he questioned my plan to replace 1000 tiny lights, and were it not for my tears, I think he would have said, “I told you so.”

Neither of us was fully inspired to remove our fleece covering and forego our reclining position to find that new, exotic scented candle. We decided that fleece and candlelight are nice, but in combination, a terrible fire hazard. As for the table between our corduroy covered recliners? It’s still in its place. Where else would we put the lamp, or the stack of partly read books? And which one of us would return the variety of nail care tools (used on Christmas Eve) to the bathroom drawer?

There’s hope for us. A Happy New Year’s kiss is as good at 9 PM as it is at midnight, and there’s a lot to be said for putting in a good eight hours of sleep before the sun comes up. We can always meet in the hallway or in the kitchen if last night wasn’t exactly the celebration fairytales are made of.

Wait. I hear water running. Roger must be awake. It’s 07:30. Sounds like he’s brushing his teeth. Might be a good time to meet him at the bathroom sink.

Happy New Year!