You know that feeling you get when you first slide under those freshly-washed sheets and hunker down for a long night’s sleep? Or when your favorite baseball team is breaking spring training and kicking off their season with a 0-0 record and a bus load of high hopes?
That’s what I like about a new year. The slate is clean, everybody’s score is tied and you get to set out on all those things you’ve been meaning to do to improve yourself. Some of us have more things to improve than others. Here are my resolutions for the new year:
• I resolve to be less blindingly handsome and not to use my spectacular charm and wit as often — it’s just not fair to everybody else.
• In a related resolution, I resolve to be more honest about my goofy appearance and obnoxious personality.
• I resolve to work harder, but in fewer hours this year. Procrastination can be an evil temptress, and this is the year I give her the boot, once and for all.
• I resolve to not pick on Susan Lyons this entire year in my column. She is a lovely, intelligent, strong woman who ... oh yeah, this won’t last very long at all. I swear, Susan, I had the best of intentions when I started this one.
• I resolve to continue to verbally pummel Sussex County Council for their disregard of land-use plans, and to diligently watch the process of the new plan unfold before us. Hey, everyone needs a hobby.
• I resolve to lose weight, grow hair and stop the spread of all odors emanating from my body. Wait, that sounds a lot like last year’s resolution. Let’s just play it safe and scratch that one off the list.
• I resolve to gain weight, lose more hair and embrace the scents I birth. Yeah, that seems much more reasonable. I am all about achieving my goals, after all.
• I resolve to call my beautiful mother more frequently this year. A more wonderful mother a guy couldn’t ask for, and I’m going to take advantage of that opportunity more this year.
• I resolve to be kinder and gentler to the reporters here at the Coastal Point. There will be group camp-outs and we’ll gather together to tell ghost stories around the campfire and make S’mores and ... yeah, this feels a lot like the Susan Lyons resolution. I’m going to scratch off this one, too.
• I resolve to not lose my temper while driving up and down Route 26 this summer. Well, I resolve to stop yelling at people and extending the old middle phalange when they cut me off or drive 11 miles per hour. Fine, that probably won’t happen, either. I resolve to no longer bang my head against the steering wheel until the air bag expands and knocks me backward, unlocking the position switch on my chair and leaving me lying prone with a face full of white powder as my car careens into a Dumpster, spins me around and settles into a raccoon dwelling. Nope, not going to do that again.
• I resolve to not watch 800 hours of professional poker on television this year. Oh, I’ll still watch a lot. But it’s gotten to the point where the voice of Norman Chad is running through my head and telling me to fold when I’m thumbing through my credit cards.
• I resolve to stop submitting my sister’s name and phone number to laboratories specializing in the identification and treatment of sexually transmitted diseases. I got enough laughs out of that one to last me a lifetime.
• I resolve to begin submitting my sister’s name and phone number to various organizations dedicated to educating people about the magic and wonder of the pan flute.
• I resolve to get to bed earlier at night. It’s crucial for me to remember that waking up well-rested is far more important than staying up to watch one more “Golden Girls” rerun or an infomercial espousing the greatness of a knife that doubles as a sausage grinder. Although, you have to admit, it would be pretty cool to be able to grind your own sausage while watching “Golden Girls” reruns.
Wow, that did not come out how it sounded in my head.
• I resolve to get 12 months closer to paying off my car. I really hate my car. I mean, this car stinks. It sucks down gas like my family hitting a keg, has all the comfort of Fred Flintstone’s car when you’re in the driver’s seat and looks like a station wagon on steroids. I truly hate this car.
• I resolve to go another year without jumping into the ocean on New Year’s Day. It’s one of my favorite events of the year, and I love attending it, but I am not jumping into that water.
Now, my sister, on the other hand ... her, I’m signing up as soon as possible.