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2025: “Well, hello there, gorgeous!”

Here we are again. Another chance. Another start.

Naughty Devil: “She’s never going to make it.”

Good angel: “2025! It’s another year. THIS time we’ll work out, clean the house, eat right, exercise, read books instead of watch TV, right?”

Me: “Yeah, but… it’s cold and grey and sitting under the covers sounds really good, too. Besides, if I snuggle and pull up my blanket real tight, that’s resistance exercise, right?”

Good angel: “Um, no.”

Me: “Potatoes are a vegetable right?”

Angel: “Technically, but they really are just carbohydrates, pretending to be a vegetable. They are NOT good for you!”

Me: “Maybe, but they are a vegetable.”

Angel sighs. “Technically, but—.”

Me: “I’m going to eat some potato chips, then. Potatoes are vegetables, you said so yourself!”

Devil: “Score one for me!”

Angel: “Okay, so what about exercise?”

Me: “I swam yesterday.”

Angel: “You are supposed to exercise ‘most days.’”

Me: “It’s only Wednesday, and, like I said, I swam yesterday.”

Devil: “You can exercise tomorrow.”

Angel: “But you’re eating potato chips!”

Me: “It’s a holiday!”

Devil: “She’s right. It IS a holiday. “

Angel: “You’re both right. It IS a holiday, but…”

“Okay, what about the house? Didn’t you say you wanted to clean the entire house before the new year? Isn’t it the New Year, now?”

Devil: “It is.”

Me: “It is. But it’s a holiday!”

~End scene~

And so it goes, until the devil and I beat the angel to a pulp, I decide to watch TV, eat potato chips, and begin my NEW New Year exactly as I began “New Years” of the past: eating potato chips, and watching TV instead of reading.

It IS the New Year, but my 26th wedding anniversary is tomorrow, and my husband and I are going out to dinner, of course. I think you have to have dessert on your anniversary, it’s like a ritual. I’ll start New on Friday. Promise.

Wish me luck.

By Feisty Quill

Writer (nonfiction, fiction, poetry, music)

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