Once more I find myself at the tail end of another year and wonder: WTF happened?
Given my renown penchant for early rising and an increasingly busy training schedule ("training for what?" I hear you ask, yes, exactly, details here), coupled with sporadic business meetings, a myriad of rugby-related engagements, increasing involvement in school governorship, and the growing concern that my eldest child will soon be taller than me (VERY SOON), I suddenly realised yesterday morning that the year is nearly over.
Or, to quote Kath and Kim, "It's ovah! O. V. A. H."
I then remembered that my realisation probably had more to do with the lengthy wine-tasting event I had attended the night before with my business partners and selected clients, which resulted in missing the last tube home*, getting to bed at some ungodly hour and then waking up wondering why a) my head was still spinning, and b) I had a sock in place of a tongue in my mouth.
It's also called getting older. And lack of sleep. Never mind, I digress, as ever.
Anyway. So, 2013. What of it then?
The good stuff:
- ridiculous autocorrect 'spellings'
- and this
The mediocre stuff:
- needless paperwork
- wasting time on social media
- tolerating fools
- manually correcting autocorrect 'spellings'
- OH's snoring
- muddy rugby boots (yes, I know, I know)
- autocorrect that persists in autocorrecting 'spellings'
And yes, there is lots more.
But if I wrote it all down it would not only take me half way in to 2014, I would also have to seek a(nother) alternative identity. Needs must and all that. 'Tis the time to be cheerful, or so
I have done my usual and vetoed the Christmas card malarky because I am not in to the 'Look how many cards we've got this year!' competition, plus I figured out the kids get enough to make up any shortfall, and anyway they all end up in recycling on January 1st.
Xmas - 0, LCM - 1.
I capitulated regarding the tree though. Apparently after two hours of pestering, OH gave in to the offspring and came back with a three-foot high, live, potted, Nordic fir. Suffice to say my military instructions to the cherubs were stern enough ("less is more, no gold tinsel, and avoid the lop-sided look") and I have not had to spend a further two hours dismantling and re-uphostering the festive shrub.
Xmas - 1, LCM - 2.
And presents. Yup, sorted. Although this year I have bought mine on behalf of OH and even wrapped it for myself. Why? Because if I end up with one more hoodie top as a gift from him I will revert to being a true teenager, start wearing my jeans below my bum, and sulk around saying everything is 'boring'. There is only so much you can tolerate.
Xmas - 1, LCM - 3.
Enjoy the festivities everyone.
See you on the other side.
|(c) Scott Adams|
* If you saw some random woman remonstrating with a TfL guard about getting access to a tube station very late at night, I trust you listened carefully. She was merely querying - albeit loudly - why all the 'workers' have matching day-glo outfits and hardhats for what should be a relatively easy commute. As you do, after a few *ahem* drinks. At half past midnight.
(I did also ask whether the headgear and power tools were optional extras so they could avoid idle chit-chat with fellow travellers. It still did not get me access.)