I was at a bar in New York last night, talking with the bartender about how New Year’s Eve is always Amateur Night–people who act like they’ve never been celebrated a thing in their lives. And the conversation touched on how weird the holiday season felt, with both Christmas and New Year’s falling on a Saturday.
Ain’t that the truth.
It’s been a 10-day stretch lost in a haze. The drive home for Christmas was long, but it’s always good to hit the door at mom’s. But an impending snowstorm cut the visit short. Flakes started flying around 3 on Christmas afternoon, and I was on the road 20 minutes later. Forty-five dodgy minutes on the interstate driving through snow, then five hours of dry pavement back to New Jersey.
The snow started at 11 am Sunday here, and continued until seven the next morning. I had plans to trudge through the 20 inches of snow to make it to the office. But the food poisoning caught me. Spent the day on the couch, work laptop going, and barely being to sit up.
Tuesday, fully recovered, I was back at the office. But it was strange–no one there, not much happening. It would have been nice to shut down the operation–the shame of it is I’m in a field that never shuts down.
Friday comes–and it doesn’t seem like the end of the year, but the end of the week, supercharged. It wasn’t an end to the end that was worthy of the occasion.
And then last night–I was in Manhattan, and Times Square was it’s usual packed self. But normally, Sixth Avenue is fairly serene–but for last night, when it was thronged with people. Chalk it up to a balmy night, I guess.
In all, a 10 days where I was trying to wrap my head around a shortened Christmas, snow and food poisoning. I made it through.
And I also polished off a book that was enlightening, and confirmed some things…