New Year’s Eve: A Great Night For Sleep

Ah, the new year. A fresh start. A chance to right all of yesteryear’s wrongs. To go forth and bring about change. To conquer and progress as an individual. To make resolutions and hopefully, this time, stick to them. To be kinder. Wiser. A better listener and a better friend. But mostly, it’s an opportunity to get some sleep and hit the ski slopes early on New Year’s Day, while the suckers who watched the ball drop sleep off their hangovers.

Don’t get me wrong, I get the allure of watching the stupid ball drop. It represents hope. New beginnings. A clean slate. My 12-year-old daughter and her friend were riveted by the NYC countdown and the chance to stay up past midnight, just as I was when I was a kid. But now? I’m fricking tired. I passed out at 11:59 and regretted not going to bed earlier; I could have used more time to properly fortify myself against moody teenagers who didn’t get enough sleep.

The last time I remember staying up past midnight, I was in my twenties. Pre-kids. Pre-worries. Before the onslaught of increasing responsibilities that come with forming a life. Before my mind was occupied with best strategies for compressing post-Christmas trash, in order to maximize my efficiency when I got to the dump. How did this happen to me?

In my twenties, my friends and I had some good parties. A couple of great ones. But most New Year’s Eve nights were spent wandering the streets of Boston in the rain, hoping to get into a good bar, and when finally squeezing into one, waiting for an hour to get the bartender’s attention. New Year’s Eve was always the one night you could count on for ordering unfulfilled expectations.

Somewhere along the line, we decided to scrap the whole thing. Now we go skiing with friends to bring in each new year, and every year the adults are in bed before midnight. We have some laughs, sit by the fire, put the kids to bed, and pass out. It’s beautiful. Having friends who want to be lame with you is the coolest. And I suppose some year, when our children have stopped sucking the life force out of us, we will crank up the New Year’s shenanigans again, but right now, I’d rather catch fresh tracks while everyone else is sleeping in.

Or perhaps we’re really not that tired. Maybe we go to sleep because it’s just another day. Because every day, whether it’s January 1^st, or June 17^th, is a chance for improvement. For bettering ourselves and the lives around us. For resolutions and repairs. For something special. For a late night out, when good times aren’t contrived, but happen organically. No special date required. I don’t know. I’d give it some more thought, but I want to go to bed.