Last year's New Year's post ended by stating I was a damned Monkey's Uncle if you were gonna catch me on the record saying, "Well, at least things can't get any worse." I prophetically went on to say that I really had no hopes or horizon, so '08 was a big empty slate.
And guess what? '08 turned into a big empty slate.
As I lie here on the sofa overwhelmed by the Christmas cleaning, cramps, lingering nausea from some bug that crept through the house last week, and a mild itchy throat, I decided to roam around in the computer and landed upon a fartload of New Year's related entries: lists, pictures, predictions, resolutions. And I stare at them all with an even more increasing sense of nausea, realizing I did nothing in '08. And I didn't even have an excuse.
Maddy died February '07. So I think it was valid that the rest of '07 -- and hell, even the first little bit of '08 -- was spent trying to exist. Functioning. Getting out of bed. Circling through the endless litany of "firsts" without Maddy -- holidays, birthdays, memorial services. Family falling to wayside, births, pregnancy announcements. No wonder I didn't do anything.
But '08? I think I was supposed to do something. Create something. Decide something. Complete something meaningful. Just pick up the fucking phone already. I thought maybe after a year, I would think -- you know, just think -- about having another baby, make up a tidy pro/con list or something. To be honest, I really didn't think about it at all. I've tried to figure out how in hell's name I spent my '08 and here's what I've come up with:
-- I made it through one year without Maddy
-- I took two trips
-- I started writing on another blog
-- I barely avoided foot surgery
-- I oversaw the renovation of the back half of my house
-- I hosted two neighborhood parties
(well, three if you include the Dog Party)
-- um, and, uh, hmmm. Give me a sec.
Things, for the record, I did not do that I probably should have:
-- thought about having another baby, even if the answer was "Fuck no."
-- lost some weight. Some. Meaning, like, even 5 pounds.
Things I probably should do, but calling them "Resolutions" sorta makes it really daunting and takes the interest totally out of it for me:
-- get organized. My house, today notwithstanding, is neat but an organizational nightmare.
-- make a boatload of medical-related appointments. You know, things like, oh, the dentist.
-- lose weight. Seriously, this is just fucking depressing.
-- work on a few rooms in my house that I can tackle by myself.
-- think about -- what's that thing called again? You know, when you work? And someone sends you a check worth some money? That thing you were going to do when Maddy turned six months old, which if things had gone right would've landed on about August '07? Oh right, A JOB.
It's not like I haven't had time, it's that I've completely totally lacked interest. And like I said here, I can't think more than two weeks in advance. You know what I've thought about '09? Here it is in all it's champagne-sparkle: I have some appointments planned the first week. And Bella has a party on January 17th.
That's what I think about '09. There is a big lot of nothing behind me, and big lot of nothing ahead of me, and it's just conspiring to depress the hell outta me today. On my horizon in '09, I go through another round of February dates. And then I turn 40. '09 sounds like a steaming pile thus far, and that's only through March. Frankly, I rather hate it already. Mind if I just sulk in this limbo week for a while longer? You think if I don't buy a calendar I can somehow deny '09's existence?
For some cruel reason we've already committed to going to two (two!) New Years' Parties (thankfully both within walking distance, because otherwise what's the point, yes?), and I'm now wondering how on earth I'm going to get through either with a straight face.
At least in '08 I didn't have a baby who died. And that's gotta count for something.