I slept in late this morning. Not because I was out drinking champagne and partying the new year in, but because I spent New Year’s Eve with four dogs, none of whom get the concept that explosives are a good way to celebrate an event. They prefer cookies or a quick run at a squirrel. Sure there may be some barking during the squirrel chase, but it’s never timed to theme music and usually doesn’t go on for 45 minutes non-stop.
The nice thing about being where I am in my life (at the corner of Here and There), is that the pressure to prove things is off. I don’t have to put on a slinky dress and a pair of heels and hit the town to show that I’m happy that the old year has ended and that a new one is beginning. I can sit on the sofa in my PJs (I don’t own a pair of Pajama Jeans or a Snuggie), down a glass of sparkling grape juice and call it a night at 10 p.m. (knowing full well I’ll be up again at 11:30 until the fireworks peter out mid-morning). I don’t even have to watch Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber or Kathy Griffin stripping to her underwear and pretend I’m having a good time. (BTW, Kathy, I’m suggesting “Get therapy” as resolution #1 for this year for you.)
The truth is, I was never much of a party animal. At any celebration that ran past, say, 9 p.m., I was usually more of a party vegetable. Why can’t we celebrate birthdays and holidays at 3 p.m. when blood sugar is low and we all need a little cake and wine pick-me-up? Where is it written than if it happens before sunset, it’s lame? We morning people have let the night owls call the shots for too long now. We are the 60% and it’s time to make our voices heard. I realize that there would probably be less drinking at early bird parties, but is that really such a bad thing? You party people are starting to look a little worse for wear while we early birds who stay at home with cats or hounds on our lap have the energy of four dachshunds on Liver Snaps.
However you celebrated and however hungover or sleep-deprived you may feel today or for the rest of the week, I wish you a 2012 that far surpasses your best expectations. May you laugh harder, love stronger, and whine (or wine) less than in 2011.