Another Year, Another Year
[History] is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake. (James Joyce, Ulysses)
Today is the last day of staycation before I must return to the office to beep and boop the computers. I took off work for a week and a day to celebrate my birthday. I'm having a lie-in, reading the news, and drinking coffee in bed. I don't do this often. It's nice, though.
I didn't accomplish much over my staycation, but what I did manage to get done was significant. I replaced my identification after losing my wallet months ago. That required a trip to Camden City Hall to correct a typo on my birth certificate before PennDot could accept it as proof of ID. I plan to renew my passport later in the week. Having lots of identification seems like a good idea anymore. Plus, I hope to be traveling some soon.
I ordered new glasses. I need two prescriptions now, one for computers and another for reading. Technically, I could do with a third for near-middle distance, but you have to draw a line somewhere when it comes to aging. And I got my expensive eyedrops refilled. There's still over $400 in my HSA that won't roll over; I should schedule my annual vision screening this afternoon.
I didn't work any vaccinations into the schedule because I have to take some routine (unrelated) tests, but nobody has told me yet when or where, so I didn't want to risk being out of commission when the appointment becomes available. I'll get the flu and COVID combo on Friday or Saturday. As for today, I hope to peel myself away from this computer, tidy the apartment, and maybe go uptown to buy a new jacket.
Whether or not I get uptown today depends on when my Amazon delivery arrives. It should be here any time between 10 am and 10 pm. I'm waiting on a big order of birthday presents I bought myself: disposable nighttime bite-guards for my tooth-shattering bruxism, a few wooden spoons, anti-slip yoga socks, small trashcans for the bath and bedrooms, scrubby sponges for the kitchen, mouthwash that doesn't burn, trash bags that don't stink of Fabreze, and some lubricant — the other kind.
It's rather dull, I suppose, but we could all do with a little less excitement lately.
Without further ado, this year's resolutions . . .
- Move someplace new. That could be on the other side of the Atlantic or just across the street.
- Join a gymnasium, hire a trainer, and get reasonably fit.
- Consume far less. This is as much about saving money as cutting clutter and reducing my footprint.
- Catch up on all the medical stuff everyone always puts off.
- Spend far less time on social media, news and current events, and streaming entertainment.
- Read more magazines and books.
- Reboot a solid meditation habit.
- Make more art. Take photos. Write stuff.
- Focus on personal happiness and fulfillment — even if the world as we know it is a dark and tragic mess.
- And to cash my PTO before it vanishes at the end of the year.
- I've tried progressives twice. I never took to them despite taking great pains to do so.
- The messages to schedule my appointments started coming in as I was finishing this post.
- I don't know about this getting old thing. It feels like a mistake.