Ah, 2014. I would say I was counting on you to be better than 2014, but seeing as 2013 ended and you began with me dealing with strep, a UTI, and a kidney stone, I would be lying, because you are already well on your way to sucking.
Admittedly, it’d be pretty dang hard to be WORSE than 2013, which included, among other things: pancreatitis, hospitalization, gallbladder surgery, an episode of severe depression (none of which were me), moving to one income, and dealing with a few crazy people in conjunction with dealing with brandus’ mom’s estate/house who might possibly break in and steal everything and/or squat there.
There were some bright spots. We got a puppy. I got am awesome new nephew. Voldemort continues to be hilarious and weird and doesn’t give many fucks about people who don’t get that boys like My Little Pony and headbands. I won NaNoWriMo for the very first time, even though my sign up and pursuit of winning had much to do with avoiding the negative shit that was coming down at that point.
So, really, 2014, I’m not asking for much. I’m asking for less medical visits. I’m asking for mental health support. I’m asking for more time to write, and more time to cook, and someone to come in and clean my house on occasion. I’m asking for my kid to continue to be awesome and ignore the haters and stick with piano. I’m asking for my husband to find a freaking hobby already.
Is that a lot? Is it too much? I’m just asking for some breathing room, really. Can we do that, 2014? Please?