I will not waste your time with a personal year in review. Offs favor me caring less about that than anyone.
There's no reason to labor through it - Grandma's death, a bout of prostatitis that made me a troublesome house guest at best, the perfect week in Montana, all that running, all those gym hours, and the argument-free Christmas in Georgia.
Tonight I celebrate six months of dual-job life, six months of watching the majority of my social life slough away, six months of gaining control over the very demon I'll sell to a line of soulless rich folk.
When the clock hits 11, I'll lock the door, head home and celebrate after shipping off some Spanish cava to some partying friends. It's New Year's on the East Coast, and no signal delay will convince me that New York decided to drop the ball with deference to Central Time.
I don't know what to think of 2009, but know 2010 already looks light-years prettier.
It has to, right?
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