Here we are on the doorstep of February, the month we look back on all the foolish New Year’s resolutions we made in late December:
Lose weight. Cut down on Merlot. Be a nicer person. Think before putting mouth in gear.
What was I thinking…or drinking? It has taken me 77 years to hone these shortcomings. Why on earth would I think I could change them with the dropping of ball in Times Square or a pineapple in Sarasota?
Seems like I go through this every year with the same results. I guess the definition of insane (i.e. doing the same thing over and over hoping for a different result) fits me well.
My December 2015 resolution made sense and was very straight to the point: Don’t make resolutions ever! It worked out fine until last December when I forgot the promise to myself and made the same resolutions I’ve made for 20 years.
Some say your memory is the second sense to go…you won’t remember the first.
I think all four of my resolutions tie together and all could be accomplished by convincing a certain police chief to let me spend a month locked, without any possibility of early release, in one of his cells. I would even offer to pay for room and board while I’m not over eating, drinking and being away from annoying people and afraid if I open my mouth someone will put a foot in it. That alone will make me a nicer person. Maybe I’ll lift a bag of dog bones at Casey’s and get caught. That ought to do it.
How are your resolutions doing? Are they dissolving like a giant snowball in warm weather? Most people my age can’t even remember New Year’s evening, much less their resolutions.
