Resolutions. Meh. I’ve made some for 2006. But like I told Ian, I’m not going to share them with you; then if I don’t stick, no one will be the wiser *rubs hands together*. Yes, I leave escape clauses in my New Year resolutions. I like them holey.
What a crap way to start the year though. The pub Ian and I were due to go to was closed (Freaks! We want to give you our money! Why are you not open!) and so we spent the evening doing what we’ve done plenty of times in the past – got drunk at home! Except this time it was on really expensive champagne! Two glasses, floor!
But the weekend had started with a plop the night before anyway – while at the bowling alley, about to buy a pitcher o’ beer, moi discovered that moi’s wallet was gone.
It’s not so much the bank cards, not so much the driver’s license. It’s more the cut-out heart shaped photo with sweet sentiments from my crazy German friend, more the ‘I Heart the 70s’ card from the company Christmas party, more the US quarter my brother-in-law gave me when I first met him, more the business cards stained with beer from playing Sovereign. More the fact that I DON’T LOSE THINGS (yeah, I was pretty wrong about that one).
So home, and drinking with Ian on New Years Eve – moi then loses something else. ALL MOTOR FUNCTION. I managed to knock over a freshly poured Carling all over the playing cards and then actually knocked the glass again, rooolllling it around so the remaining beer spilt all over me. Nice.
New Year’s day was spent trying to look nonchalant about the fact that I kept bumping my champers and orange, spilling little bits onto my pajamas. And whilst washing said pajamas, moi also managed to throw Ian’s lovely black Moto RAZR into the machine.
So I cost myself big time this weekend. Lost my sweet wallet that looked like the bum of a pair of jeans. Lost my capacity to hold a glass of booze (in my hand, not my stomach). Lost the cost of Ian’s insurance excess.
Let’s go 2006!
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