I have always hated New Year's Eve. I must have been a real emo child because I'd get to Christmas and think, "I've made it through another year." Then the next thing it would be New Year's Eve and I was looking down the tunnel at another year to get through. Happiness at this time of the year was never my strong suit.
Later in my married state I also hated the drinking and the hangovers of so-called responsible adults. I hated being the sober one at every party. In fact, I used to put in an appearance early in the night and then go home for a cup of tea and some tv and trundle back in time for supper. Usually by then the neighbours would be more repulsive than normal so I would take a plate of food home and put my feet up and watch more tv.
This year is a little different. I am getting a return visit of my granddaughters. Twice, in 7 months, pinch me I'm dreaming. Three days notice and I haven't heard if they got on the plane but I will tomorrow. I've only got them for a couple of days but that's fine.
I shopped for food and made up their bed. I may have to shut the kitchen door until their other grandparents leave and I hope no-one looks too closely at my bed where I've thrown a rug over the debris. I'm expecting a guest on January 12 so the plan was to clean the easy way. I don't do fast clean. I don't do tidy up. I have to do it from the bottom up and everything in its place before the hoovering takes over. The Hoover is now happy, it was used at last and just to make me feel bad, the belt's about to break.
The BrickOutHouse came over last night and hooked up the DVD with its surround sound and Whoa Nelly! does it belt out. Stupid me, didn't realize it also had a built in fm/am stereo radio.
So I'm off to enjoy my Stargate and The Mummy Returns before the girls take over both DVD and computer.