Instead of "ringing in" the New Year, try "sleeping in" the New Year.
Didn't Thomas Hardy have a novel titled Return of the Sleep Slave? I haven't enjoyed or participated in "round the clock" sleeping in ages. Although not particularly, or obviously, productive, it is kind of fun to be all snuggly with cat butts and pillows and the whiishpks of car tires on melting snow. Cooder moves every time there is a siren as it is loud when the windows are wide open to 1) aid the snow melt, 2) do my part for global warming, 3) keep me from drying to a crisp.
So far the New Years' News is reading reading reading. Sleeping sleeping sleeping. I finished the first Tana French book, In the Woods, which I think I mentioned in yesterday's spaced missal. (Some beautiful writing and great phrases such as "getting banjoed" for drunk.) Today I read Cartwheels in a Sari: A Memoir of Growing up Cult by Jayanti Tamm. I watched The Kids Are All Right (what a flawed movie) and the end of Therese Raquin with Simone Signoret (did she ever do a bad movie?). And mixed in a generous portion of sleep.
I don't know what to make of my utter exhaustion after the trip. I was more than reasonably well-behaved when it came to drinking and getting to bed at a reasonable hour. (Although I felt I existed on a diet of rich breakfasts and other butter-laden meals, I lost a half a pound.)
I am feeling better though. I could barely form a sentence today and am not much good at answering questions. Hopefully, when I wake up from my upcoming long nap (estimated time of departure, 45 minutes from now), I will be more conscious and productive.
And ready to go.