Parties were fun. Consumed much sugary goodness instead of alcohol. Had much conversation. Reflected on the fact tha Regis Philbin has done far too much Botox and was wearing enough pancake to add an inch to his features. It was frightening. There was speculation that Dick Clark couldn't die because he was still on contract, someone pissed on his magic portrait hidden in the attic, or that he was waiting for a specific day (That seems morbid and cruel this morning, but it was funny last night).
Drove home without mishap, witnessing only one almost-accident (we sat at a stop light as the left turn signal came on, and guy in the far right lane decided it must mean him and cruised on through, into the path of left turning car going the opposite way. Left turning person was smart. Red light runner was stupid. We stayed away until he turned off the road.) Got home and to bed around 3 ish. Slept until 10. Lovely.
Now it's time to get moving again. There's only a week until the cruise -- I had not properly calculated this. For some reason, January 9th felt like 2 weeks from the new year, but it's not. It's a week from tomorrow. Incredible. Must start packing.