A (blah) buh-bye to 2018

Feeling tongue-tied this New Year’s Eve — with 4 hours remaining in 2018.

Were that I had something inspirational to write.

Were that I did resolutions, that’d be something to write about there.

I feel blah. But not so blah to keep me at home. (“Home” is a rental room in the roommate’s condo so not home a’tall.)

I’m heading out anon to the little metaphysical store for a party. There’ll be readers, drumming, acupuncture, food and champagne at midnight — all for $12. Low-key, small group, about my speed.

This’ll be different for a New Year’s Eve celebration!

My first New Year’s Eve since moving into metro Phoenix a couple months ago. It’ll be memorable, however it shakes down.

Thanks to technology and live-streaming, we don’t have to be at Times Square or even own a TV to view that major event. I took a peek to get in the spirit. Boring musical performers so I switched over to Spotify for New Year’s Eve playlists. An improvement.

‘Tis the end of the year, no denying that, and while it’s not been the worst year, it’s been challenging enough, particularly in health developments, so I’m eager to view it in the rear-view mirror.

Really just wanted to write something before bidding buh-bye to 2018.

No pearls of wisdom here tonight. No boisterous celebration or excitement about the coming year just yet.

Here, a handful of one-liners to lift the mood and end both this post and year on a high(er) note:

  • A woman walks into a library and asked if they had any books about paranoia. The librarian says “They’re right behind you!”
  • My wife accused me of being immature. I told her to get out of my fort.
  • Did you hear about the Italian chef that died? He pasta way.
  • As I suspected, someone has been adding soil to my garden. The plot thickens.
  • The other day, my wife asked me to pass her lipstick but I accidentally passed her a glue stick. She still isn’t talking to me.