New Year
It's cold. We're sitting on the sofa under blankets with mugs of hot coffee, and the heating is on full blast, but it's still two-pairs-of-socks cold, since the flat's been unoccupied for three weeks. Presumably there's a lot of residual warmth that sticks around for a while even when the heating is turned off, allowing it to quickly warm up most mornings. Still, it seems appropriate that we have to fire-up the house at the start of the new year.
I shant bother with a retrospective of 2008, since it's it's all been about the lead up and aftermath of a single life-changing event that everyone who might read this is sick of hearing about by now. I certainly didn't bother making any resolutions, knowing that just staying afloat and dealing with the new arrival would be occupation enough. Nor shall I make any for 2009, since I expect this year to be just as mental as the last. But I shall write more on that at a later date.
We came home to two piles of Christmas cards. One from various friends, many of whom we've hardly seen this year. Having a baby does that to you - you don't get out like you used to, and your conversation becomes somewhat limited. The other, an unopened box that we meant to write and send before going away, but never got around to. Having a baby does that to you also. Alternatively, maybe we just suck. Sorry guys. If you sent us a card and didn't get one back, then it's nothing personal. Even our own mothers went cardless this year.
I fear tonight. I've been awake and travelling for an unreasonable number of hours, but don't feel too bad just now. Aidan has, however, slept a great deal this morning. It's hard to explain the concept of jet-lag to a six-month-old, you know? I'm only too glad that I don't have to go back to work until Monday.
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