First off, let me say that I’ve never been a big fan of New Year’s Eve. It was a big deal when I was little because I got to stay up all night and my grandmother would make homemade waffles and Grandpa would make ill ice cream sundaes in those little metal dishes. It could just be that I’m a bit of a homebody and don’t much like going out or partying, but I think it’s the pressure. I hate New Year’s resolutions and all the Facebook statuses. Maybe I’m just a Scrooge, but I don’t care for the hype… the feeling like I have to make a big deal out of things I don’t really care about (Valentine’s Day, I’m lookin’ at you). Last year I baked cookies on New Year’s Eve.
With that in mind, we didn’t make any plans to go somewhere. I could chalk it up to the cold and money, but it’s probably just apathy.
We decided to just chill out and lay down to ring in 2011, but Mike jumped up with a start at a loud banging noise outside.
I spent the last moments of 2010 tip-toed at my window trying to spy fireworks far in the distance. We got to see a few, then I read my Japanese phrasebook while Mike tried to get the game Typing of the Dead to work on his Windows partition. It didn’t, so I watched two episodes of Zeta Gundam before falling asleep around 2.
An hour later, some drunk men decided to bang on the Dumpster across from our apartment and woke me up. At 5 a.m., not being able to breathe woke me up. I didn’t sleep much the night before and woke up with a headache which nagged at me all day. Then my throat started to hurt. I didn’t tend to it enough, and now I’m sick. Happy 2011 – nothing is different.
I promise I’m not as sad as this all comes off. I’m quite happy, I just don’t get this holiday and I might be a little crabby on account of my cold.