It's almost noon on January 1st (assuming I finally got my days right) -- that's halfway through the first day of the new year -- and so far 2024 hasn't tried to kill me or put me even deeper into debt.
Oh, I know it's coming.
I believe 2024 is waiting until my guard is down. The sneak blitz. That was 2023's play. Several times. And today I'm high alert. For as long as I can maintain it.
So, yeah, 2024 is the year of the anxious cheetah. (They're highly anxious animals despite their speed per the internets.) Happy m#ther-f+cking New Year.
p.s. Life seems very Narnia at the moment. Meaning it's always winter but never Christmas. My mother should be leaving Satan's short-term assisted living by the end of the week. So maybe Aslan is on the move.
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