the ramble

It is a quiet New Year’s Eve, spent inside the house with the end of one novel, the beginning of another, old movies, a very snuggly puppy (who, though snuggly, also happens to have puppy gas, which does put a little bit of a damper on the snuggling), a warm bed, lots of pillows and probably soon some tart, grapefruit-tasting New Zealand white wine.

I can romanticize it for you and say that it felt like the year should end quietly, inconspicuously. And the new year should swallow it up, as though this year hadn’t existed at all. Moderately poetic reasoning for staying at home. But the real reasons are these: 1)that I just don’t feel like going out. In part because I haven’t felt entirely well this week and particularly earlier today. In part because I’m tired and rarely ever get up the energy to leave the house past 8:00.

And 2)I do want to bring in Luna’s first New Year with her snuggled up against my face. If I can’t have a New Year’s kiss (which I never have), then I’ll have a New Year’s puppy kiss. If there’s anyone I want to spend the wee hours with tonight (if I am awake in the wee hours, which is always debatable), it’s that tiny, adorable Moon.