The Real New Year's Resolution

Like a reasonable person, I have spent the past couple of days recovering from the festivities of the end of last year and the beginning of this one. By which I mean curing the hangovers by lying on the couch staring at La Dee's TV (she has satellite!) and taking short breaks to load up on YouTube Videos while letting the sound of the rain soothe the aches away. That is, when Tanesco permits, seeing as keeping the electricity supply steady is still a major challenge. 

Oh, yeah: and writing for the EA. Pounded out my 800 words and change this morning (thanks for 72 hours of dodgy service, Tanesco! Love how you make life easy!) when I had an OMG moment. And the moment was this: you know Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and The City*? And how she'd spend, like, an hour a week writing a lifestyle (lifestyle!) column in New York? And this wee job afforded her a ridiculous apartment and an endless supply of shoes that said unprintable things about her sexuality? And you know how she was constantly tripping over gorgeous, solvent men with great haircuts who could hold a conversation with words that had more than three syllables?

I can't believe how utterly different the reality is. Turns out that major media houses are actually tight-fisted (fill in the blank) and columning is about as glamorous as folk singing.

So, sure. World peace. And let's concentrate on the important stuff like good child-raising, healthcare from womb to grave and public libraries. I'll say that for effect because I actually care about this stuff, being demented and all. But when it comes down to it, my resolution for 2013 is to appropriate just a bit more of that Carrie Bradshaw lifestyle. Minus the shoes perhaps, because while bondage is perfectly exciting, six-inch heels are not my thing.

*If you don't know Sex and the City, don't worry. God invented YouTube so that Her creatures could be saved from their ignorance of Americana whenever the need arises. Enjoy.