Next year, I resolve not to whine so much. Next year.

This year, I resolved not to make any New Years Resolutions.

I mean, COME ON.  I’m already firmly ensconced in the major projects of “Find Non-Stabby Job” and “Recover Lost Hormones”.  Each of those missions has multiple sub-projects, and that’s on top of the standard “Try Not To Forget to Feed Creatures Under My Care” and “Try To Remember Alfred is Not Just For Yelling At”.

(And, of course, “Try To Blog More Than Once a Week”.)

Sure, I could stand to lose a few twenty pounds.  Sure, I could probably nurture my creative soul more, spend more time with family and friends, be less sarcastic with my 3-year-old.  There are infinite ways in which I’m deficient, but you know what?  I don’t have time.  I don’t have energy.  I am quite fine with the way I am, frankly, and just because I have to say the rather awkward “twenty-eleven” now is not a good reason to add MORE shit to feel guilty about.

That’s how I felt on January 1st, anyway, and I still feel pretty much the same.  However, I’m starting to think maybe there is a good reason for making resolutions.

I live in a frigid wasteland, and it’s miserable here for a solid 6 months out of the year.  Every year, I question my sanity for choosing to set up shop here, starting around October.  But, just when I’m seriously looking into how feasible it is to canoe to Hawaii, people begin to exude festive cheer.  There are pretty lights!  And sparklies!  And it’s going to be the holidays soon, and I have to put up a tree and hang some decorations, and what do I buy for my mother-in-law?

It’s a really, really good distraction from the fact that I have to put on a coat, boots, and thermal underwear just to let the damn dog out to pee.

After Christmas and New Year’s, there’s a bit of a…letdown.  I have to go back to work.  It’s less socially acceptable to drink rum and eggnog at 11am.  I realize I never sent out my Christmas cards. 

Normally, though, there’s another distraction: my resolutions.  I’m thinking about what new workout gear I need to buy, who I’m going to convince to jump out of a plane with me, or how I’m going to reward myself for not eating carbs (tip: not with pasta).  This will usually keep me occupied until at least February, when I can start looking forward to that one day in March that is surprisingly nice.  Most people’s resolutions peter out around April at the latest, and I am no different, but by then it has served it’s purpose – it’s gotten me through the arctic hell of a winter in Saskatchewan.

This year, though, I’m just sitting here, with no motivation, looking at how much work I’ve done on the “resolutions” I made way back in 2010, and at how much work I still have to do, and at how many unknowns there are before I can close those chapters of my life and move on to something fun, like learning to snorkel.

Maybe in Hawaii.  If I can get the canoe in working order.