So then. Another year, another decade. It’s tempting to drop into review mode, sip a couple of glasses of the lovely bottle of vintage port I bought myself for Christmas but have yet to open, and attempt to write something insightful to celebrate the passage of time. Tempting, but not really close to the true banana.
I survived. Most of the people I love survived. That’s enough for me.
If there’s anything I’d like to burn in the ten-year bonfire of vanities some folks speak of it is my own sloth and laziness. I’m the laziest man I know and I fear that even my laziness is not as thorough and honest as it might be.
I’m a drifter. Always have been, always will be. I don’t honestly care even if I do sometimes feel that I ought.
To hell with it. I’ll keep on being lazy, drifting along without a care in the world. It suits me, it does.
I wish us all a Happy New Year, with few aches, fewer pains, and a lot more laughs than we’ve seen in the past ten years. Here’s to the next one.
