On The Year of the Rat

Happy New Year. I've never promised myself to get in shape or eat better on New Year's (though maybe I should). Seems to me the holidays are stressful enough without putting all that added pressure on yourself. Plus in another ten or fifteen years I'll be nearing the mid-life crisis stage of my life and with my birthday (January 3rd) being so close to New Year's I could be asking for a world of pain. A world of pain. But I am starting to think that my somewhat Bohemian way of thinking regarding resolutions (that they are for sayers and not doers) and promises (again, just do it, don't promise yourself to do it) is somewhat an immature mode of thought. But my life long passion for procrastination is the penny in the light socket to this epiphany. The down time that coexists with the holidays allows for musings on the future and tiny deals you make with yourself about exercising and skipping dessert. Once the Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's hangover wears off all that stuff gets lost in the SSDD of normal life. Anyway, I got to go iron some stuff.