No news is big news

For weeks we’ve been trying to have Do Nothing Day here on Shaw Street, but it doesn’t take. There really are a lot of things to get done, especially over Christmas. People have been coming and going all week, and in addition to cooking and cooking and baking and cleaning, I could spend five minutes twice a day rearranging the boots that pile up by the back door.

Now it’s the last day of the year, a grey, snowy, blowy day that kind of screams “Don’t bother!” at you. Even so, we walked the dog, and then I cooked up a Spanish omelette (chorizo, onion, potato, no Spaniards). I gave the dog a bath and took some photos in the back alley. We have dinner plans: an early seating and home before midnight so we can toast the New Year in our jammies.

To me, it’s kind of momentous to be able to spend the last day of the year in complete domestic content. Two thousand and five was kind of chaotic for me and just about everyone I know. I, for example, dropped everything (or sold it, or gave it away) and moved to Toronto, new job, new home, new love, new life. I hit the ground running when I got here, worked long hours, injured my back, worked harder, enjoyed near-constant motion sickness, worked even more, then finally resigned from my job to retreat and recharge for a while.

So, all the Christmas stuff has happened (it went well) and it’s the last day of the year. I’m delighted to report that there’s nothing I really need to complain about.

Happy New Year.