It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was fretting.
“I forgot to make any New Years resolutions.”
“That’s right.” My husband agreed. “We’re almost through January. By this time, you should’ve already broke them all.”
I sighed.
Resolutions shouldn’t have been problem. After all, I hadn’t stepped on a scale in 6 months; not because I don’t need to. And, looming balefully above me, as I write, is a strange machine. We use it to hang blankets on, but its’ formal name is ‘Treadmill’. It needs to be dusted.
“Why don’t you resolve to spend more time with the Wii-fit I brought you?” he continued helpfully. “You know it keeps asking about you….”
I sighed. It was a good idea at the time. Like the ads said, I figured that the Wii, and my competitive nature, combined with an excess of free time, would just melt those pounds away. Only I forgot. I have no competitive nature; I hate games; and surfing the Internet already takes up all my time.
“Plus it has really lame music.” I muttered.
“Maybe I should resolve to have more wine and chocolate?” I suggested perking up. “They’re both healthy? Right?”
“If you get any ‘healthier’ the chair you’re sitting on will break,” my love replied concisely.
I tried again. “Maybe I should resolve to read more…”
My son’s new girlfriend, an English major, had told me that she had resolved to try to read a book a day, at least during school vacation.
“Umm lov…wasn’t reading less your 2009 resolution?”
I sighed.
Actually on this quiet Sunday afternoon, I had far more serious worries than my weight, my lack of exercise, and my reading habits.
That would be Monday morning.
After three years of retirement, I had flunked out, and agreed to go back to work, full-time for a year. It was an excellent opportunity. Really.
So, on this particular Sunday afternoon, I really needed to put down my computer, forget about resolutions and prepare for the week ahead; which I did, belatedly, by running frantically around the house while whining loudly to my husband.
“What happened to my alarm clock?” I asked plaintively.
“Lov…it’s 10 years into the 21st century. Use the cell.”
“Wha…How can I call myself if I’m asleep!?” I replied puzzled and angry.
“Don’t we have a flashlight in this house?” I fretted. “I need to go into the closet-of-no-return to find my suit.”
“Lov!” I whispered, suddenly stricken. “I’m not going to have time to read the Internet before I leave in the morning!”
“That’s right.” He nodded agreeably. “It’s gonna snow. You’ll be shoveling.”
I wailed again. “How am I ever going to do this?”
“You have a fine whine.” He declared. “I have faith in you. I think you can keep this up all year long…”
“I’ve changed my mind.” I declared. “I’m going to forget this whole job thing and read a book a day instead.”
For a second, I thought happily about the book I was reading right now. In it, the heroine had turned herself into a rat, and she was riding a dragon into a lake. She had to save the world while holding her breath.
“You know, she’s just like me.” I reflected out-loud.
My husband raised his eyebrows. “As in quick-thinking? Courageous? Athletic?
“No.” I replied. “As in scared to death… with far bigger worries than her waistline, lack of exercise, and tendency to procrastinate.”
At that point it dawned on me that I had my 2010 New Years resolution.
“This year” I stated. “I just want to make it through until next year.”
My husband nodded agreeably again as explained how to set a cell-phone alarm, handed me a flashlight, and made sure there was a snow shovel on the back porch. He rubbed my back, and murmured.
“Me too.” He said softly. “Me too.”
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