2007's Dead And I'm A Gilmore Girl

As 2007 lowers itself into the last inches of its grave, I don't find myself taking stock of the year behind me or contemplating resolutions for the year ahead. I won't be clinking champagne glasses with the late 30s crowd or getting together with old friends at a bar while couples kiss at midnight while I stare into a pint of Red Hook.

After spending the Christmas holiday with my family, I was looking forward to having four days to myself. Since most of 2007 was not lived on my terms, I relished the thought of finishing year as I pleased. No showering, no shaving, no need to do or be anything for anyone else. Why the idea of feeling dirty and scruffy is liberating, I have no idea but it is.

Anyway, I've already spent my Target gift card I received for Christmas on red flannel sheets and a faux down comforter; turning my bed from the place where I fall down into a welcome beacon of fluffy comfort. I unpacked, straightened up my apartment a bit and dusted off the television for optimum viewing. Yet I still found myself reeling from the multiple passive aggressive statements my mother doles out like fake smiles.

Nothing can turn me from an independent, free thinking, opinionated man into a quivering lump of emotional goo faster than a long, familial visit. So I considered getting hammered - each drink another sledgehammer blow to the Cooper Wall until it comes crashing down. I considered re-entering therapy to mend the cracks in my armor. Instead, I found refuge in an old, familiar friend.