maeve66: (Read Motherfucking Books All Damn Day)
Thank fuck. I will be glad to get shed of this year, random occurrence of people dying, racist resurgence in global politics, and all.

I don't enjoy New Years' though. Not my favorite holiday. It feels like there are exhortations to improve oneself everywhere, and that just makes me stubbornly want to do something particularly unsafe and unhealthy and trivial and lazy, so THERE.

On this particular New Years' Eve, I will have my mother over -- we will drink fizzy fruit drinks, as she doesn't drink, and I can do without. We will make some black beans and rice (because I do not care for black-eyed peas, sadly) and eat popcorn while watching some kind of feel good movie. I've been having trouble finding feel good movies recently, if anyone has any suggestions.

I did, however, watch one found after long and arduous internet search -- it was quite cute -- belongs in a double-header with The Commitments, which is one of my favorite movies. This one is called Sing Street and is more or less the same but with a school setting in Dublin, and more obvious 80s music (and fashion) nostalgia. Some of the original music written for it -- which starts out terrible and gets pretty good -- is HILARIOUS, like "The Riddle of the Model".

The heat is on. Even though it is 51 degrees F. out, it feels very cold in my living room, so I gave in and turned on the heat. Music is also on -- I went and turned all 370 Xmas songs off, on iTunes, so I will not hear them as I play more or less random sets.

I have annoying chores to do -- laundry and dishes, mainly. But I hate doing laundry SO FUCKING MUCH. I am going to try to Do All The Laundry tomorrow, at a laundromat, and RQ is going to help me carry it downstairs and back up, because that is a fucking daunting task. Such is my exciting New Year plan.

Oh, PS -- I did just manage to reach my half-sister, Beth, who lives in Florida. She doesn't always answer. She can be out of touch for long, long, long periods of time. She's five years older than me... I must have told the story of how we met Beth, in 1997. My mom gave her up for adoption in 1961. I love her an awful lot. She has a pretty hard life, and has fulfilled our genetic urge to alcoholism. I don't know how RQ and I have evaded that, really. We certainly had the potential.



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