The first day of 2013 dawned beautiful, sunny and cold. Heading downstairs, I ran into a neighbour dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, carrying a thick paperback novel. “That’s strange,” I thought. “It’s a bit chilly to sit outside and read.”
We made small talk and, as he stepped out of the elevator waving his book, he chirped, “First day of the year. Headed to the gym. Took me all morning to get down here, but I’m going!”
Ahh, New Year’s Resolutions. The kind of optimistic insanity that makes a person saunter down to the gym in their street clothes. With a book in hand.
I’ve created my own list of resolutions every year since I was a pre-teen, filling pages of my journal with detailed assessments of the past year and lists of goals for the coming months. I’ve even made charts (dork alert).
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