new year.

Time is up. My ten-day vacation meets its end. Bum days are over. Seeking refuge from the fridge, pots and pans, from the microwave is so over. Endless watching of TV series has to be moderated once again. Early morning to late afternoon sleep is unacceptable. This whole inactivity is over.

It’s the time to shed off the excess, fill up the lack of it and have it just right enough. It’s the time to pick up my book and prepare for a possibility of considering more options. It’s the time to read so I may read. It’s the time to accept that the “benefit of the doubt” was actually a mislabeled cynicism. It’s the time to go with the flow and not complain. It’s the time to liberate the times of yore and fashion a new one.

December is gone. The month reserved for reminiscing good and old memories trotted away. The dreaded urge of pouring emotions to writing should long been gone. Hormones should be excused from blame this time.

The time is up…and it’s about time…eventhough I know that I will probably have this kind of entry again, next year.