Happy New Year!

Here we are.

January 1, 2013.

I wonder what the superstitions are in regards to 'what you're doing on the first is what you'll be doing the rest of the year'.

If it is, indeed, the case:



OldMan will spend the year ill. He has the flu and can't seem to shake it. His office is across the hall from mine and I can hear him in there coughing and snorting and occasionally laughing. I can only assume he's looking at midget porn again. Or movie trailers. I can't hear his computer over the hacking, so I'm not positive. I am a little concerned, though. While OldMan lives with the very unreliable belief that he is only a small evolutionary step away from invincible, he really doesn't get sick.
Ever.
So, this is strange. Poor guy.

LovelyGirl will spend the year in her bed and/or pajamas. Asleep/reading/on the phone. Or, possibly on a date. She and THEBOYFRIEND are going out for the day later on. She's kicked her flu and just has a runny nose now.
While I was typing, she came in, grumbled a morning greeting, got her coffee and a cinnamon roll and wandered back to her room. This is normal.

Tinydog will be underfoot. She has been since I got up this morning.

Noodle will just be noisy.

Charlie will be tearing shit up inside his new cage and chasing the dog.

And as for me, I'll be at my desk. Roaming on tumblr, blogging periodically to you random people who visit and working on projects that I will never get done.

Such is my life. Always has been, always will be. I suppose I could make resolutions and try and change it, but, sometimes change is not required.
Or desired.
Or tired.
Or mired.
Or outliered?

I could probably do that for awhile, huh?

Never mind.

I found this from Neil Gaiman, and I am going to shamelessly pop it in here.

Happy New Year, darlings!

Stick around. We'll do things.