I’ve skied slopes and imbibed bubbles and laughted at lascivious jokes and innuendoes expertly delivered by friends that are family. I’ve also Tindered from the mountaintop and snagged myself a very beautiful boy who says grandiose things which please me very much.
I don’t have much waiting for me back home except a brittle Christmas tree and a brand new year. That is if “not much” is everything, minus the hassle of undecorating a sad, grayish fir.
I haven’t cracked open my laptop once — not even now — but I plan on carving out some time tomorrow to do myself (and Hy) a recap somewhat worthy of this arduously beautiful year.
I don’t think I’ll post any end of year numbers, though, only because I at once fear bragging or humiliating myself by whatever I post in comparison to someone else’s year. I’m a fragile artist, after all.
Happy (almost) New Year, Internet Boyfriend!!