New Year

A pal and I were emailing this morning about our New Year's Eve celebrations.

Mine went like this: retirement party for father-in-law at a small town steakhouse, complete with polka band in the background; much beer; a few iron butterflies; too much champagne; lots of dogs; stay up way too late; not enough sleep.

Hers went: drinky, drink, drinkity, drink; stay up way too late; not enough sleep.

We're both too old for this sort of debauchery because we're both still tired today, even after a full day of recovery.

Time was I could party very hard, nurse a hangover for a couple of hours, and bounce back just fine. Now, one night of drinking (and it would have been pretty light drinking back in my college days) and I'm still exhausted more than 24 hours later.

I'm so tired that I accidentally wore a black bra under a white shirt and now, despite the fact it's about a billion degrees in my office, I cannot take off my sweater because my fashion faux pas will become public knowledge.

My friend beat me, though. She emailed me with, "I'm so tired that I wore two different shoes to work today."

Obviously, we're old and should now spend our New Year's Eves wearing flannel pajamas, drinking hot tea, and going to bed at 9:30.