In light of the above truth, I have decided to quit making New Year's Resolutions and start making New Year's Resignations instead. In other words, I'm going to accept certain undeniable realities. Here's how my list shapes up.
Resolution: I will lose 20 pounds.
Resignation: I will lose 2 pounds, and that's only if my doctor will agree to remove an organ.
Resolution: I will get my sons to clean and disinfect their bedroom.
Resignation: I will pray that the compost heap of dirty socks & underwear spontaneously combusts, thereby incinerating all the mutant bacteria growing up there.
Resolution: I will become an environmental activist in my community.
Resignation: The incinerated compost heap will obliterate the ozone layer and my family will go down in history as "The Boneheads Who Melted Antarctica."
Resolution: I will keep my vehicle in immaculate condition.
Resignation: I will continue to drive my dust-covered mini-van with the front bumper that's duct taped on, so as to be reminded to be humble because I'm this close to being poor white trash. Or possibly related to Red Green.
Resolution: I will spend less.
Resignation: I will cut back on purchasing non-essentials, such as food, electricity, socks, and underwear, so that I can buy gasoline each month, so that Hubster can continue to get to work to earn more money to buy more gasoline.
Resolution: Every day, I will look youthful and vibrant.
Resignation: Every morning, I will notice that all my body parts are continuing their slow, unstoppable migration toward the Equator.
Resolution: I will prepare healthy meals for my family, and teach them to enjoy exotic foods.
Resignation: My children will think that "healthy" means the can was not dented, and "exotic" is when the box of mac & cheese comes with little pastas in the shape of farm animals.
Resolution: I will blog about serious, relevant issues.
Resignation: What, Hello Kitty waffle irons aren't relevant?