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Well it’s 10:17 and I just got home. I’m in for the night.

I make it policy to never be a target for drunk drivers. Now, I realize that someone could potentially hit the side of my apartment, but there’s pretty much cars all around it as a buffer, so I’m not too worried.

Years ago, I started making the habit of throwing parties so that I wouldn’t have to leave the house on New Years. Selfish, I know. But I threw great parties.

RANDOM STORY: Whenever we had a New Years party, we’d meet neighbors. It happened three years in a row at two different apartments. The first time it happened, it was when I lived by the U of M. Someone was throwing a party at the opposite end of the hallway and came and knocked on our door. We invited them in for a drink, they invited us over for a drink, and we got party hats out of the deal.

The next time, living downtown, the women who lived above our apartment heard us on the balcony below *cough* smoking *cough* and invited us up, then some partygoers from their party came down. I believe eventually there were a bunch of us sitting in the foyer in some disused waiting area smoking. Bad Claire.

The final time, same apartment, some guys on our floor came over randomly. A few stayed until after midnight. One of them took a liking to me, so I got a New Years kiss. He was smoking hot. Never saw him again. Never wanted to, actually.

The funny part is, we never saw any of those people before or after New Years. I don’t know what it is about the holiday.

This year, I’m spending New Year’s Eve with a cat. Life goes on. I suppose at a certain point you get too old to rage.

Last year, I had two friends over. We sipped wine and watched the ball drop. Of course at midnight we had to raise a little hell, so one friend—who shall remain nameless—ran outside and took off down the street yelling (I think), “Happy New Year!.”

We couldn’t find her. We ran downstairs and the neighbors were on the steps smoking. We asked if they had noticed a woman run wildly down the block and they motioned in a general direction. So I think we ran after her. Most likely yelling as well.

Good times.

Hm. Thinking back to my first apartment… 7 years ago, we had a New Years Eve party when we were *cough* underage *cough* and at midnight one of the guests told us that it was tradition in her home country to run around the house with suitcases. Or suitcases with money. Something like that.

We did what we could with what we had.