happy? belated new year

So I always have a lame time on New Year's Eve. Too much build up, I think, not enough planning. Not that I do anything particularly exciting for any holiday, really, but New Year's - New Year's is consistently disappointing.

I am sorry to report that 2009 was no exception.

Except, it kinda was. I did have some serious laughs (singing karaoke and playing Balderdash with the nieces) and I also enjoyed a new-to-me ritual (tossing into a fire things to leave behind and things to look forward to...), but the fun was totally eclipsed by the big fight I picked with my husband first thing this morning.

Since my blog is only popular with folks who actually know me and my husband, I won't say anything more, except it's 3 a.m. and I am still awake cuz I recognize the importance of not going to bed mad.

I think I'm mostly mad at myself. This morning was not a nice time for fight picking, if there even is such a thing as a nice time for fight picking... But more so I am mad at myself because I can't find the solution. This fight I picked is one I've been picking at for months. Each time I discover the same messy wound under the same festering bandage. Every time the pieces look even less and less like they'll ever fit back together. Each time everyone's feelings are a little more tender, the anger a little more raw.

I only wish that "drinking to excess" was not one of the items I said goodbye to in the fire last night. Cuz going to bed drunk is not the same as going to bed mad. It's just the waking up hungover (and extra fat) part I refuse to deal with anymore. But you know, come to think of it, I have a fondness for just about everything I put on my farewell list last night. And all of the things to look forward to are big and scary and grown up. Ugh. 2009, please be gentle with me...

For now all I am looking forward to is scooping the litter box. I'm only hoping that Ratty was watching while Monkey made his recreational visit to the stencherator. That was the whole idea, after all - Ratty always wants to do whatever Monkey does, and Ratty needs to learn to use the cat box - but suddenly the idea seems, well, like it stinks.

Oh, but there has been one bright spot already in this brand new ominous year. While we were away on the two day drama filled road trip from hell, Ratty Catty did not pee on our bed. I am sure it was not from lack of trying. Instead, it is because my brilliant husband battened down the hatches (or in this case, the canopy). I feel like fricking Dorothy discovering that I had the power to go home all along...

Small favors, right?