Dearest Rachel –
I have this sneaking suspicion that you’d be so disappointed in us all…
Tomorrow, as you may or may not know (since I have no idea how time works on your side of the veil, and whether you even keep track of it, when there’s no point to in the middle of eternity), is New Year’s Eve; that one night of the year in which the whole focus is on that single moment when 11:59 p.m. turns to midnight. At that instant, 2025 comes to a close and 2026 begins; everybody yells “Happy New Year!”, kisses are exchanged (well, not among our group, but whatever), and the partying begins in earnest at this point, even though the whole point of the celebration has already come and gone. But I’m not too sure that any of us are actually gonna make it to midnight, based on recent experience.
The nice thing is that it looks like everyone is in agreement to actually get together (although now that I think about it, I can’t recall if Erin has thrown her two cents in about it). Both Kerstin and Logan broached the subject independently, so they’re clearly in, and Ellen responded in what amounts to an affirmative these days, by listing the rest of the week as a no-go, but Wednesday as okay for joining us. So I should really get out and shop for some decent little treats to serve as we hang out together.
Of course, you’re aware that Ellen doesn’t like being out and about on New Year’s Eve in particular. Her argument is that there are going to be a whole lot of drunks on the road, and while I recognize that she has a point, as the holiday does have a particular reputation for its drinking culture, I’d say that it’s been hammered home to most Americans that drinking and driving are not to be combined. It’s not quite been stamped out as thoroughly as smoking seems to (although between vaping and the marijuana dispensaries that have proliferated in the last five or six years, that too has made a comeback – only cigarettes have been seemingly taxed and regulated out of existence), but the combination has been criminalized (and the criminals have been mocked, even when no harm has been done) to the extent that most people know to think twice about combining the activities.
Still, it’s admittedly no phobia, as that would be an irrational fear, and there’s more than enough reason to consider her concern to be a rational one. I mentioned that, since we certainly have the space (although the yellow room, despite having originally been colored with her in mind, has been given over to Logan to serve as his room); what we really need is a guest futon, or something akin to that, so she could stay over and not need to worry about the vehicular chaos until morning, at which point the worst of them would have either found their way home (likely via cab or ride-sharing app) or be sleeping off their hangovers elsewhere.
But while she expressed appreciation for the offer (even without a futon, I pointed out that the house has plenty of recliners to doze off in), she acknowledged that she also wanted to be home before midnight for the sake of her cat, Survivor. So either way, it’s going to be an early night for us in terms of seeing in the New Year. Maybe we’ll be stuck watching Tokyo’s Kohaku Uta Gassen or the London Proms from the Royal Albert Hall, if we want to see someone ringing in the year together.
Although… I’ve no right to be making too much fun of Ellen for not being able or willing to stay up to see the new year in. It so happens that, just last night, Daniel and I were watching videos together after Logan tucked in for the night (as this is still a regular work day for him, and he has to clock in at seven to take calls from customers). Somewhere along the way, I realized that Daniel was snoring during a video, at which point I let the video run its course and shut the system off for a while as I joined him in slumber for a little while (although not long, as he eventually began to stir from the silence). This, I should point out, was only a little bit after ten in the evening; probably before I used to call it a night on a weekday back in the day (and you would still tease me about it before staying up until two or three), and long before midnight. So I’m understandably not sure that any of us are gonna make it to midnight tomorrow night.
And maybe that’s just as well, since we’ve been invited over to the folks’ house the next day; as the New Year falls on a Thursday, Mom still wants to host us for a meal together (she’s informed us that we’ll be having the chili we didn’t have on Christmas Eve), and Dad would like some company for the bowl games going on that day. Daniel may not be a big sportsball fan, like you, but for Poppa’s sake, he’ll put up with it gladly. It’ll be a little different day than our usual New Year’s lounging about the house, but that’s okay. We’ll be over that much earlier than most Thursday evenings (and probably stay a bit later, depending on the games themselves), so it will require us to be a little better rested and put together.
So with that being said, I suppose there’s little more for it than for us to apologize for cutting an evening short that’s ordinarily meant to run long; if neither we nor our guests can manage it, why push ourselves? It might be disappointing for you to see, honey, but I suppose you can turn your attention elsewhere, if you prefer. Either way, though, I appreciate it if you could wish us luck; I’m sure we’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 