Last night it rained. I was in bed and turned over and went to sleep to the staccato sounds of the rain dripping from the roof edges. This morning has intermittent rain. It is cloudy and dark, a perfect sendoff to 2020.

My plans for tonight are simple. I’m going to stay in my cozies and watch the ringing out of the old horrific year and the welcome ringing in of the new year. I hope for a year possibilities, maybe even of hope.

When I was a kid, I always begged my parents to let me stay up on New Year’s Eve. They did a couple of times, and I fell asleep.

I never make New Year’s resolutions any more. I don’t keep them. But this year, I did make one: to stay healthy and safe and maintain my sanity.

My outside lights are still turning on in the early darkness. I light my Christmas tree every night. Every year I wait to remove Christmas until the Epiphany, until Twelfth Night. Today I am keeping a careful eye outside hoping to catch a glimpse of seven swans a-swimming in the puddles.

Earlier this morning, I don’t know when, Henry leaped off the bed, slid on the small rug in the hall and started barking. I yelled for him to stop. I thought he was harassing Jack. Well, it turns out he was alerting me. I found two boxes on my steps when I went to get the papers, boxes delivered when Henry was barking. One was sent priority mail, presents for me and Henry from my sister in a package mailed before Christmas at a post office just north of Boston. The package took a journey. It visited Providence and Stamford, Connecticut, its last stop before me. The other package was Henry’s pills, mailed five days ago, regular mail.

I wish all of us a happy New Year. We deserve it for hanging in and making the best of this. My dear Coffee friends, stay safe and stay healthy.

This morning I woke up at around eight, went to the bathroom then went back to bed. I even managed to fall asleep. Henry waited and fell back to sleep with me. I woke up after ten because it was close to four before I went to bed. It was just one of those nights.

Today is winter warm. The sky is a mix of blue and those ever present clouds, but the sun finds its way through and shines every now and then. Finally, a breeze, not a wind.

I’m staying home today yet again. I have stuff to do tomorrow so I’ll brace myself and head out. One of the stops is the dentist where an old filling will be replaced by a new filling. I am not excited.

One Christmas I got Alive, the book about the Andean soccer team who dined on their dead teammates when their plane crashed in the Andes. I found an empty corner Christmas morning and started reading. I stopped for dinner. I read the entire book. My mother wasn’t happy. She wanted to know why I didn’t save it for later. I thought it an inane question. It was a book, a new book, enough said.

When I was in high school, my school was two towns away. Those were the days of bus runs from town to town. I got my bus at 7:05 about 3 blocks away from my house. I always sat with my friends up front. The back of the bus was where the guys sat. I pitied any real people riding the bus. The back was always loud and rowdy. I never got home before 4 and usually closer to 5.

After Christmas, we’d play with our toys and games. We’d eat turkey, the endless turkey from Christmas dinner. My father cleaned the carcass, and he never missed even the smallest piece of meat. The bird’s last identity was soup. I love turkey soup.

My freezer, fridge and larder are filled. Last week I had everything delivered from my three markets. I have plenty of potatoes, onions, bread and meat. I have pita bread and hummus. I have one stick of celery, two tomatoes and a single green pepper. Come dinner time I will open the fridge, stand there and hope to find something appealing. If unsuccessful at the fridge, the next destinations for the Great Food Hunt are the cabinets and the oven, my back-up storage. Last night I found nothing appealing. I ate cinnamon toast for dinner.