| Humor Non-Fiction posted January 19, 2025 |
  |
how I spend my New Year
A New Year's Tale
by Iza Deleanu
2024 - 2025 short story Contest Winner
I have not been in my perfect world for three weeks now. Ms. Lazy, my uninvited inner roommate, keeps lounging on my couch of ambition, flipping through Netflix instead of letting me write. Every time I felt an itch to pick up the proverbial pen, she'd swat it away with a soothing, "Maybe tomorrow." And me, being the generous procrastinator that I am, always let her win.
Usually, people end their year with noble intentions: prayers, gratitude lists, resolutions so ambitious they require a personal assistant to manage. But not me. Nope. This year, I channeled the chaotic energy of a rogue raccoon. It all started on December 29th, when I got sick. Not your dainty "Oh no, I have a cold" kind of sick. This was the "Netflix-and-sneeze extravaganza" version, where I spent two days looking like a burrito with a fever. By December 31st, cabin fever had me by the throat, and I decided that I had to do something special. After all, what better way to kick Ms. Lazy out than by dragging my best friend out of the house on the coldest night of the year?
Picture this: it's -30°C, the kind of cold that slaps you in the face the moment you step outside. My best friend, bundled up like an angry yeti, was glaring at me as we trudged to the North Saskatchewan River. "Why are we doing this again?" she muttered, her breath forming small clouds of resentment.
"Gratitude ritual," I said with an enthusiasm that only borderline hypothermia can bring. "We thank the year for its lessons, then toss our worries into the river."
She squinted at me. "Did you Google this or...?"
"I made it up," I said proudly, holding up a crumpled paper where I had scrawled my grievances and hopes. "Authenticity matters."
When we reached the river, I dramatically flung my paper into the water, watching it float away like a tiny, soggy metaphor. My friend half-heartedly followed suit, muttering something about how this better not give her frostbite.
ÃÂÂ We survived, obviously, but I'll admit that by the time I got home, I was ready for a more... civilized celebration. So, there I was, at 11:59 PM, in my sexiest outfit "a plaid pajama set, complete with fluffy socks "holding a crystal glass of... chamomile tea. Because nothing screams "party animal" like herbal infusions.
The countdown began. I watched the seconds tick down on my phone, my reflection in the dark screen a haunting reminder of how far I'd fallen from glamour. Three... two... one.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" I cheered into the void of my living room. Teddy, my kitten, blinked at me, unimpressed, before returning to destroying a roll of toilet paper. I clinked my glass against the air in a toast to myself.
This, my friends, was my start to the new year: no epic resolutions, no lavish parties, just me, my pajamas, and a newfound appreciation for the absurd beauty of it all.
I may not have conquered Ms. Lazy yet, but at least I had one victory "chamomile tea has never tasted so triumphant.
Usually, people end their year with noble intentions: prayers, gratitude lists, resolutions so ambitious they require a personal assistant to manage. But not me. Nope. This year, I channeled the chaotic energy of a rogue raccoon. It all started on December 29th, when I got sick. Not your dainty "Oh no, I have a cold" kind of sick. This was the "Netflix-and-sneeze extravaganza" version, where I spent two days looking like a burrito with a fever. By December 31st, cabin fever had me by the throat, and I decided that I had to do something special. After all, what better way to kick Ms. Lazy out than by dragging my best friend out of the house on the coldest night of the year?
Picture this: it's -30°C, the kind of cold that slaps you in the face the moment you step outside. My best friend, bundled up like an angry yeti, was glaring at me as we trudged to the North Saskatchewan River. "Why are we doing this again?" she muttered, her breath forming small clouds of resentment.
"Gratitude ritual," I said with an enthusiasm that only borderline hypothermia can bring. "We thank the year for its lessons, then toss our worries into the river."
She squinted at me. "Did you Google this or...?"
"I made it up," I said proudly, holding up a crumpled paper where I had scrawled my grievances and hopes. "Authenticity matters."
When we reached the river, I dramatically flung my paper into the water, watching it float away like a tiny, soggy metaphor. My friend half-heartedly followed suit, muttering something about how this better not give her frostbite.
ÃÂÂ We survived, obviously, but I'll admit that by the time I got home, I was ready for a more... civilized celebration. So, there I was, at 11:59 PM, in my sexiest outfit "a plaid pajama set, complete with fluffy socks "holding a crystal glass of... chamomile tea. Because nothing screams "party animal" like herbal infusions.
The countdown began. I watched the seconds tick down on my phone, my reflection in the dark screen a haunting reminder of how far I'd fallen from glamour. Three... two... one.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" I cheered into the void of my living room. Teddy, my kitten, blinked at me, unimpressed, before returning to destroying a roll of toilet paper. I clinked my glass against the air in a toast to myself.
This, my friends, was my start to the new year: no epic resolutions, no lavish parties, just me, my pajamas, and a newfound appreciation for the absurd beauty of it all.
I may not have conquered Ms. Lazy yet, but at least I had one victory "chamomile tea has never tasted so triumphant.
2024 - 2025 short story Contest Winner |
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2025. Iza Deleanu All rights reserved.
Iza Deleanu has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
