New Years is always somewhat underwhelming to me. The days and hours leading up to it are so full of possibility, of resolution-writing and vows to make yourself better with a fresh start, of an almost-mystic or spiritual fog that seems to blur reality a bit under a soft glow of anything can happen.

Much of it also likely has to do with the fact that I neither showered nor left the house on New Years Day, so the 48 hours of New Years felt like some kind of extended, suspended reality bringing with it the thought that I could spend the next 364 days in the same warmth of PJs and hermitude and new Sherlock episodes.


But then January 2nd rolls around, and it’s back to button-down shirts and the bustle of morning metro rides and theĀ deeply tragic realization that 1/3 of the new season is already over, and nothing feels like it has changed at all.

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four mushroom chowder

Life is surprising. Surprising in ways that are lovely and in ways that are tragic. Disappointing. Unexpected. Hateful. Wonderful. But it doesn’t stop for anyone, despite the circumstance.

That’s a lesson I’ve learned over the past few weeks. It’s not really a good lesson, but it’s also not a bad one. It just, is.


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