It hadn’t been much of a good year for her. Her dog had died, her dad had suffered two strokes in a row, and she had to go shopping for new jeans without even growing taller. Just two sizes bigger.
So when it was approaching the new year, you’d probably think she was glad that 2011 was finally over. A new year meant a new start. But no, she knew that she wouldn’t feel any different. A new year simply meant that she had to write a different number on her assignment headings for the date. How bothersome.
And so it was that she spent her last few moments in year 2011 working out in her room on her yoga mat, wearing just a shirt and her underwear, listening to Labi Siffre’s “My Song” over and over again. It made her think of her boyfriend, far away and probably having tons of fun with his guy friends. The Men. Should she call him? Perhaps not. And what would she say anyway? “Remind your friends that you’re designated, and if they forget, I’m going to designate their asses.” Maybe not such a good idea. She didn’t feel like designating anyone’s ass at the moment, and especially not her boyfriend’s friends’.
She continued to do situps. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. And then she heard a low, buzzing noise at her desk.
When it’s a minute to midnight and you start hearing buzzing noises, it can get quite frightening. While, in this case, it was just her phone vibrating on her desk, but she felt her goosebumps rise and began to wish, frantically, that she wore some pants just in case an alien spaceship burst in through the wall. At the third buzz, she realized that it was her phone and she got up from her yoga mat, rummaged around her desk, and found her phone in the middle of a pile of Prisma colored pencils.
Before she picked up, she knew it was him. “Happy New Year,” she whispered. “Happy New Year. Can you hear the fireworks where you are?” Soon enough, a faraway sounds of booming and cracking went off. She smiled even though he couldn’t see her and told him she could. She heard him and his friends countdown through the phone and they talked a little more before saying goodnight, and she rolled up her yoga mat in much better spirits.
As she was walking to the kitchen to get some water, she heard a splatting sound somewhere near the door. The neighborhood mischief makers!
Disregarding her lack of pants, she launched into action and pulled out a few eggs from her fridge. Flinging her front door open, she caught sight of the culprits and took aim. Her first shot made home.
“Go to hell or I”ll designate your asses!” she screamed happily. She continued to launch eggs until all of the brats left running. Her adrenaline was flowing through her veins and she had pieces of eggshells hanging in wet strands in her hair from the egg that exploded near her head. She turned back and shut the door quietly.
It was going to be a good year.
