No year resolutions

All the new year means to me is that I get to change the calendar hanging in the kitchen and that I’ll be writing the date wrong for the next six weeks or so. No resolutions for me, nor any big predictions about the coming year, except that we’ll be moving to San Francisco around summertime, assuming I can find a decent job.

The brokenparty last night was a good time, as usual. Luckily, no one died from bullets returning to earth. I didn’t hear any gunshots from the neighboring houses at all, but I appreciated the warning.

I’m off work today. This is good because there is nothing worse than trying to drive in Pasadena on New Year’s Day. Even the next couple of days are going to be bad because the post-parade float viewing is right down the street from our office.