No mistake about it. Winter has us in its clutches. It’s darn cold now and will go even lower tonight, to 19˚. The Christmas warmth must have been a gift from Mother Nature who is back to her old self again. As for me, I have to go out for an hour or so then I’m hurrying home to get cozy, nestle under the afghan and read. The laundry will sit in the hall another day.

This is the lame duck time of the year. Christmas is over and it’s not yet the new year. I guess it’s the week of reading new books and eating Christmas cookies. The weeks before Christmas were busy. There was baking, wrapping and decorating. The cards had to be addressed and they and the packages had to be sent. Every day had a bit of frantic about it. Christmas Day was making dinner then everything was over; everything was finished. I believe I heard a collective sigh of relief.

New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day demand no preparation. My days of partying, wearing conical hats and blowing noise makers are over. I have no need to join the revelers. In my younger days, I would have been at a party with a drink in hand and a silly hat on my head. Now I’ll be home wearing my pajamas. If I have the celebratory spirit, I can still wear a funny hat and have a drink in my hand. I will definitely watch the Times Square ball fall and I’ll yell Happy New Year.

I remember when I was little, I wanted to be awake for the New Year. My parents agreed, but only because they knew I’d never make it. Midnight was way beyond my usual bedtime. I sat on the couch wearing my hat and holding my noisemaker which I was not allowed to blow because the noise was driving my father crazy. I drank ginger ale and felt adult. I also fell asleep and missed wishing every one a Happy New Year.

I made no resolutions. I liked last year, and I’m happy. I am content with who I am.