I hate January 1. Always have, probably always will. Today, though, was a doozy. My parents went out to load their car so they could get on the road and head to Molly’s—and they discovered that everything in it had been stolen, despite the fact that the car was parked immediately in front of our apartment. Their GPS, their iPod, and, worst of all, their Christmas gifts for Molly and Ian. I called the cops, who came for their report, but obviously there’s nothing they can do. People who steal wrapped Christmas gifts are on the same low level of humanity as people who smash pumpkins.
Happy New Year! Fantastic!
January 1 also finds us in a new chapter of our life entitled Lucia Is Two. More will perhaps be said about this at another, less frustrated time.
Happy New Year! Splendid!
On a brighter note, my big novel revision is done, thanks to Andrew’s and our parents’ willingness to brave both babies on their own for the last two weeks. I became a regular at a nearby coffeeshop and might just have to make up some other huge project I just HAVE to work on in order to continue my daily three-hour doses of alone time.
Happy New Year! Superb!