Tomorrow is the saddest day of the year.
It’s a fact: the third Monday in January is considered the most depressing day of the year, and that’s backed by professionals–I didn’t make it up.
I hate to be the bearer of crappy, discouraging news—but you’d almost have to be a hermit to not have heard this before.
And there are a few reasons for this.
Continue reading “Tomorrow doesn’t have to be un-bear-able…..just sayin’”
You’ll see I’ve placed a phrase square on the top of this blog (it’s on the cards for the blog too) and it will most likely stay there for the duration. Although I could change my mind tomorrow. You never know with me.
And this is the part where you find out who you are.
How many times have I said that in the last 365 days?
Tonight, New Year’s Eve 2017, I’m in Tempe, Arizona. It’s a warm night and I’ve just come in from an evening out.
I’m at my brother’s condo; my niece and her boyfriend are off in Flagstaff snowboarding. They took their pooch, Bella, so it’s just me in the empty space, which is nice.
It’s just after midnight in the Mountain Time Zone, and fireworks are exploding all around; in fact, it sounds as though there is a big show somewhere nearby (I can hear the geese in the nearby lake freaking out). I’ve cracked the mini bottle of Moet to which I treated myself (I only had a couple of sips of warm champagne at the symphony, so I’m ready to toast 2018). But I really need to finish writing before I polish off the bottle, for sure.
Drinking and driving laws are pretty strict here in Arizona—as they should be, so I’ve had a dry New Year’s Eve day and night up till now, save for the one small sip hours ago.
And while it’s been dry, it’s been anything but dull.
North of 50... 