Resolved (Or, Count the Metaphors)

I haven't started 2010 yet. I'm waiting until the time is right, standing outside the wildly churning revolving door that will take me from 2009's sidewalk and drop me off in the lobby of 2010. The timing has to be right, you know, to avoid disaster--stumbles, falls, and face plants. And don't forget about stray shoelaces that can get caught. A stray shoelace can result in a severed leg or a sprained pinky.

Obviously, there's a lot to think about on the sidewalk of 2009.

I've been taking a break to become refreshed and renewed, which is how I was hoping to be when I arrive fashionably late in 2010. In fact, I applied my eye cream morning and night twice last week in preparation.

In addition to skin care, I've been reading others' resolutions and themes and trying to decide how it is that I'm going to approach this new year. There is definitely a list of things I want to accomplish, at least a dozen adjectives I'd like to acquire, and three or four verbs I'd like to master, but I haven't decided if I am at an all-you-can-resolve buffet, or dining on a tiny-but-meaningful plate at the Bistro of Becoming.

Something can happen, though, if you wait too long to start a new year. If I'd seen any of the Matrix movies, I could explain this better, but it's sort of a strange limbo world that you find yourself in and it begins to make you a little crazy. And by "a little crazy" I mean "eating empty calories to the point of sickness." It's possible that my time off left me nothing but neurotic. And chubby.

To be perfectly honest, I'm not all that pleased with Me, Version 2009. I was like a regrettable computer upgrade--lots of potential, but too many frustrating quirks. I have been planning to accomplish many incredible things as soon as.......what? As soon as I grew up? As if I wasn't allowed to be great until some artificial date arrived and made me valid. In the mean time, I successfully discovered 1001 ways to waste time, including number 678: The Real Housewives of Atlanta. 

I have to do better this year.

Tomorrow the year 2010 turns one week old, and my time on 2009's sidewalk will expire. (Did you know you can only delay starting a new year for one week? I learned that from watching Matrix trailers on YouTube, which is, incidentally, Way to Waste Time #843.) I'll have no choice but to bite my lip, hop into that salad spinner of a door and step foot into the new decade.

I've got serious butterflies. (And shoelaces tied in double-knots.) But I'm ready. I mean, if I can keep an entire year from starting, what can't I do?