I did not wake up this morning expecting to write a blog post for the first time in over a year. Nope nope nope. But, I suppose I should’ve seen it coming. It went a little like this: January 1st came and went and I never made a resolution. Say what you will about this oft-mocked tradition, but I love it. This year was the first in many that I failed to come up with something, anything. So on January 19th, I decided on a retro-active resolution: Journaling. I’ll give you a moment to roll your eyes. All done? Great.
Despite the pros of lovely, tactile, physical journals (and my unhealthy obsession with my own handwriting), I journal on my computer because I’m clinically incapable of being succinct, and my hand cramps up at the mere thought of writing more than two paragraphs. I started journaling back when I quit drinking as part of an exercise in a book I was reading. But, as rereading those journal entries reminded me, that whole exercise quickly transitioned into rejoining the blogosphere, because, at the end of the day, journaling just felt like talking to myself more than was mentally healthy.
Anywho, I’m also incapable of picking something back up without first refreshing myself on the past (as evidenced by my traumatic trip down blogging memory lane that I did before rebooting this thing in 2021 where I reread the 2009-2013 years. Never again), so after I reread the 2021 journal entries, I felt compelled to reread the 2021 blog entries. And rather than say, “Whew! Okay, glad we’re all caught up, time to move on,” I instead found shit I felt the need to comment on. A fucking rabbit hole, this one.
Why leave the past in the past when you can write a follow-up years later that no one asked for? *Cracks knuckles* Let’s do this.
1. Sobriety Update
Still going strong. It’ll be two whole years in less than a month from now! I came upon this paragraph in a post I wrote at 10 weeks sober, about how I hoped to feel at 20 weeks sober: “I switched from carbo-loading in preparation for Netflix marathons to pre-gaming my runs with yoga. Lately, I’ve been vibing on some light rain and loon calls for sleepy sounds. The mocktail du jour is fizzy Blueberry lemonade. I’m writing this while taking a break from drafting tomorrow’s blog post, which has nothing to do with sobriety and everything to do with my latest obsession: making windchimes for an aural assault on my nemesis neighbor. I have no idea what my sobriety day count is — not because I threw it all out the window, but because I don’t need to know. Life is life, and life is good, and I no longer feel the need to dwell on something I’ve put aside and moved on from. Cheers.“
I think I manifested a pretty nice scene for myself, and reality is not that far off.
2022’s New Years Resolution was to take up yoga. Some important details to take in here: 1) I had always strongly resisted yoga because it felt like something “everyone” was doing, and I didn’t want to be “everyone.” There are reasons I’ve never seen Star Wars, never been to Cape Cod, and never read the Twilight series. This is one of those reasons. (I didn’t say it was a good reason). 2) The last time I’d done anything remotely resembling exercise prior to January 2022 was… maybe May of 2020? And I work from home. Meaning I can’t even pretend that the 5000 steps I got walking to my car and back counted as something. I was lucky if I hit 3000 steps on a given day. (Fun fact though: I still managed to lose 50 pounds in that same time frame. Thanks, sobriety! I’ll be writing my soon-to-be-best-selling diet plan book any day now called Lose Weight While Eating Whatever You Want and Never Working Out. (Spoiler alert: it’s just one page, and all it says is, “Never drink alcohol again.”))
I say all that to say this: Expectations of Resolution Success were looooooow. So you can imagine my shock when… I liked it? And stuck with it? And did more than I had initially set out to do? And now I’m one of those obnoxious people who stretches a lot in public, follows way too many yoga accounts on Instagram, and am set to go on a week-long yoga retreat in Panama in August. Who am I?
Meanwhile, the obnoxious neighbor is still obnoxious. If anything, he’s deteriorated over the past year and half. Louder, weirder, more confrontational to other neighbors. He’s the worst.
And as for my sobriety, no, I don’t count days (or even months, really) — just years. It’s not something I think of on a daily basis, but it’s always there, and I’m fine with that. I wear it as a badge of honor (sure helps that society seems to be moving ever so slowly into a sober-friendly direction with ever-increasing offerings of NA beers and wines and mocktails and such). Still never felt compelled to attend any meetings (socializing with strangers?! Perish the thought), but I also don’t find myself wishing that I never have to think about it again. If anything, I find myself having forgotten why it was so polarizing, so emotional. It’s just another thing about me, like having red hair or loving cats or hating olives.
2. Not All Manifestations are Good
I also came upon this line when rereading 2021’s posts: “I legit have a coworker who’s been with us over five years and is my direct peer, yet he’s never once pronounced my name correctly; he’ll likely go to the grave with that distinction.” Guys. I shit you not: that coworker died two months after I wrote that. Freaky. And, no, he did not learn the correct pronunciation of my name in those two months.
3. Rhett Update
One thing I mentioned in my big 2021 update was that while many things in life had changed, Rhett had not. Welp, I’m here to say that that is no longer true. Nay, that motherfucker Ian killed my Rhetty-roo. Luckily for Hank and me, that was the real extent of the damage we suffered from the near Cat 5.
Speaking of cats, we grabbed ours and got the hell out of dodge the night before the storm hit. People here think it makes for bragging rights that they stuck around; evacuating is for pussies! Okay, but we literally have three pussies, and if I have the means to keep them from having to hunker down in the eye wall of a hurricane for eight whole hours, I’m going to do that. Not to mention the real risk of storm surge that could’ve rendered our house unlivable for said pussies. Luckily for us, the flood waters stopped about 1/16″ from the threshold of our front door. Not exaggerating. I have photos of the flood line. Fucking insane how fortunate we were. Sadly, Rhett was less so, given that we had left him in the driveway to fend for himself (houses here are built up on mounds to raise the elevation, thus driveways are on an angle that slant down to the road, a lower elevation. Rhett ended up mostly under water).
Progressive paid out a decent amount for him, and I put that money in the bank. No need for another car when I rarely leave the house. Yup — for the first time since I was 18, I do not own a vehicle.
4. Work From Home Update
Also seen in a 2021 post: #WFH4EVER. Yeah, about that…
Seems if I want to manifest that into reality, I may have to move. Lest I get too ragey, I’ll leave it at this: they’re calling us back to the office for two days a week starting in April. I shall inform them that I have no car, and will thus be remaining at home. If that poses an issue for them…
5. Moving Update
I can’t commute to the office if I don’t live near the office. Loophole: acquired.
You would think that 1.5 years’ worth of time, reflection, and general peace of mind brought to me by many hours of yoga would have resulted in a mindful conclusion on this topic. You would think wrong. I guess I already know what 2024’s resolution will be: meditation.
I still have no real clue what I want. If anything, Ian reminded me that our time here is limited. The storms will just keep coming, stronger and more frequently. We got lucky this time, but one half inch more of water, and that whole story would’ve had a much different ending.
I wouldn’t mind living in New Orleans again (you know, just not in a flood zone), but the issues I pointed out when last I spoke on the subject haven’t changed: there’s just no way to get a house the same size (or larger!) with a driveway, garage, pool, lanai, etc. At least not without going over $1M. Sure, we could likely find something in the suburbs, but then what’s the point? I want walkability and community. Not another neighborhood of manicured lawns and psycho neighbors with Akitas. So we remain at an impasse. Eventually, something will give–either my need for space, my need for warmth, or my need to avoid hurricanes and return to office mandates.
6. Disney Update
We’ve definitely gotten back into the travel swing of things, thankfully. I’d missed that. Last year, we made it to Hawaii, New Orleans a couple of times, NY, Massachusetts, New Hampshire a couple of times, Philly, and even to Peru (fucking amazing–one of the best trips I’ve ever taken; luckily, we made it there about a month before the current political woes). Disney World? Not so much.
I know, I know, you’re shocked. The sad truth of it is, with increased crowds and the removal of free FastPasses, they really killed off my way of Doing Disney. Gone are the days of popping up for a weekend, FastPasses booked weeks in advance, waltz in, leisurely wander around, do your three rides, and then move on. Now it’s… fight crowds? Hope you can find one ride with a line shorter than 30 minutes? Get frustrated? Move on. So, we largely have. As it is, Hank no longer has an Annual Pass. Mine expires in March, and I’m not entirely sure I’m going to renew it. My Mother, Lizzy, and co are coming for a big family trip there in February, and that may or may not be my last hurrah. The irony is that ever since Covid, Disney isn’t selling new Annual Passes. They’ll allow you to renew, but not buy new. Meaning if I don’t renew and then change my mind a few months later, I’m shit out of luck. And if there’s one way to almost guarantee that I’ll want something, it’s telling me that I can’t have it. Damn those evil geniuses. So we’ll see what happens there. Though, an Annual Pass won’t be all that useful to me should I move out of state…
7. Cat Update
Cats are awesome. Duh. Marshall is amazing. Most days (months, even), I forget entirely that he has FIV. Hopefully it stays that way for a good long time. Cash and Wynton continue to be wonderful. I’d tell you that they say hello, but that would be a lie, as they’re both passed out on the day bed next to me and care little about what I’m typing.
They would likely care if I had to go back to an office to work. No, they wouldn’t like that one bit. Then again, I’m not sure they’d like moving somewhere if it meant no more lanai to run around in (despite the fact that Wynton fell in the pool for the umpteenth time just last week). It’s a tricky situation we’re in, spoiled me and these spoiled cats, all looking to maintain the lifestyle we’ve become accustomed to.
Conclusion
I suppose that’s about it. Nothing earth-shattering. But it’s nice to kick this dead horse every now and then, right? For now, I’ll stick to my “journaling,” (well, I’ll try to, at least. With the exception of yoga, most of my New Years Resolutions usually have a shelf life of about four months).
Now can you imagine if I had hand-written all this in an actual journal? *Shudders*
Talk to y’all in 2025 or something.