I’m sitting on my couch, listening to music and watching my cat sleep as the clouds builds up and the sunlight wanes. We’re hours from celebrating another new year here on the east coast of the U.S.

As I sit here, I’m contemplating all the things I should be doing. All the things I need to do. The list is long and seems to grow every time I look at it.

Am I doing any of them? Nope.

I did do one thing earlier today. One whole thing. Then I went and bought myself a bottle of American made, French heritage champagne because it’s New Year’s Eve and life’s too short not to indulge in some bubbly every once in a while.

2025 is not going to be the year that I had imagined only a few short months ago. Before the political craziness, before the cat, before certain doors had opened. So while we won’t have our first female president, I am now owned by a cat and in a couple of months, I’ll be moving and launching into another overseas adventure.

Life is at once awful and strange and amazing.

So despite the long list of things to do, I’m going to sit and read and enjoy a glass of Madame Liberte bubbly. I’ll probably go to bed at my normal time because whether or not I’m awake at midnight, the new year will come regardless.

So tomorrow, well, tomorrow is a new day. The start of a new year. And I’ll worry about tomorrow next year.

Cheers to another new year. May it be better than we expect.