To me, every new year seems less like a real year and more like a battery expiration date. Or at best, a sell by date on a can of refried beans . . . anything that once seemed like a distant and hypothetical concept, a future possibility that was otherwise fairly unlikely to be experienced directly.I think there's a point in your life where each New Year’s Eve abandons the excitement of youth and crosses over into an unequivocally surreal feeling that monopolizes the emotion set. I’m guessing (hoping!) it’s just a glimpse at the irony of death.
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Last year, we were dancing in a cabin in the blue ridge mountains, stuffed silly from your New Year's feast.
This year we went to bed early and were woken at midnight by the sound of neighborhood gunfire. See what life is like without the Sims?
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