Not to have any.
Let’s face it. If all it took was deciding to do something different starting on January 1, my life would be SO different. I would be, for instance, a bartender on St. Maarten. Or a circus acrobat. Or a UN translator.
So I didn’t even fake myself out with pretend NY resolutions this year. Nope.
What I did do was spend about five minutes thinking about a few goals for this year. Notice they’re goals, not resolutions. They’re things I’m working toward, ever so gently and with a big dose of humor and a crap ton (DF’s latest phrase for “lots”) of patience for my extremely fallible and intermittently lazy self.
Not that I’m going to tell you about them. Other people’s goals are boring.
So are other people’s NY resolutions, except for the part where you do an internal eyeroll and think to yourself, “Right. And pigs will fly.”
And then you say something like, “Good for you!” or “What a great idea!”
That part is kind of fun, now that I think about it.
So I guess I won’t completely deprive you of the satisfaction of rolling your eyes and thinking, “You Mormon with only one M, that’s never going to happen.”
Loosen up those eye muscles and get ready to roll. You can even snicker, because I can’t hear you.
This year, I’m going to remember that other people have feelings, too.