2014: A year for less-is-more.

I rang in 2014 in a yurt, with a kidney infection. This is one of those stories that requires a little background information, and since I haven’t written much in awhile, I’ll begin with the last time I watched the clock strike midnight, which, in all honesty, was probably the same day in 2013. (That’s not entirely fair. I got up at midnight plenty of times in 2013.)

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2013: A year for not fucking around.

My 2013 was off to a bit of a rough start. New Year’s Eves past have seen me serving cocktails to those having way more fun than me, and damned if I wasn’t going to be on the other side of the bar this year.

…I spent the majority of January 1 in the fetal position on my couch, nursing a hangover of epic proportions and shaking a proverbial fist at my whiskey-shooting self. My misery was compounded by the fact that I completely deserved it. I hoped death would take me swiftly.

Continue reading “2013: A year for not fucking around.”