Given an opportunity to visit a different era, either past or future, I would prefer to go back a few decades, to when I was younger, stronger, and much better-looking, and when life seemed so much simpler — say, the 1950s. But, unlike the fictitious Marty McFly, we’re not given that choice; the irresistible force of time keeps us moving forward, whether we want to or not. There’s no such thing as a “flux capacitor” — although I’ve heard a rumor that Elon Musk may be working on it.

I gave up making New Year’s resolutions a long time ago. I don’t know anyone — myself included — who ever kept theirs. But as we approach the start of another year that promises to be as bad as — if not a thousand times worse than — the last one, I thought I’d give it another shot, in an attempt to keep from making the same mistakes again.

So, here we go . . .

Resolution No. 1: I will eat as much as I want, of whatever I want, whenever I feel like it. I lost my girlish figure years ago; a few extra pounds no longer matter, as long as I don’t outgrow my clothes because at today’s prices I can’t afford a whole new wardrobe.

Resolution No. 2: Screw the whole exercise thing. I hate it; I’ve always hated it. And it gets harder every year. If I feel like taking a walk, or just getting up out of my easy chair to go to the refrigerator again, I will. But I won’t be doing anything requiring exertion on a regular basis.

Resolution No. 3: I will keep Amazon in business again this year, and will make at least one ridiculous, wasteful purchase each month. Economizing is for younger people who can expect to live for many more years, as long as they don’t smoke, drink hard liquor or sodas, eat meat, take really hot baths, get vaccinated, fail to get vaccinated, travel, drive or ride in a motor vehicle, or argue with any big tattooed guys named Bubba or Snake.

Resolution No. 4: I will not suffer fools, lightly or otherwise. If that means breaking an earlier promise to myself not to write about domestic (U.S.) politics . . . well, so be it. Because there are way too many fools out there right now, and the temptation is just too f*cking irresistible.

Resolution No. 5: I was going to resolve to speak my mind — sometimes diplomatically, but always honestly — on all subjects. But I already do that, so let’s just say I’ll keep doing it.

Resolution No. 6: Our family’s cat is an old girl. I’m going to make her love me before one of us dies.

Resolution No. 7: That pile of “to-be-read” books over there? I pledge to read one of them this year.

Resolution No. 8: And as for the clutter in my closets . . . I will learn to accept it. It’s time to get over my OCD problem.

And finally . . .

Resolution No. 9: I will keep writing my blog each day, for as long as my mind and my fingers keep working in sync. And I resolve to continue, within the parameters of said blog, skewering every government leader, politician, billionaire, obnoxious celebrity, and Kremlin spokesman (yes, that’s you, Dmitry Peskov) who gets his or her name in the news. Because I enjoy it . . . and at my age, I think I’m entitled to a little fun.

So that’s it. If you were expecting an even 10 resolutions . . . well, nobody ever said life was fair.

(Driving you crazy, isn’t it, fellow OCD-ers?)

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/27/24