Bedtime Before the Ball Drops

Call me a party-pooper for going to bed before the ball drops New Year’s Eve, but staying up for a hug and kiss no longer jump starts my pacemaker.  

Call me an old fogy for not going out New Years Eve. No, my easy chair, in pajamas, sipping hot chocolate, is more seducing than juggling a champaign glass on a plate of hors d’ oeuvres at a raucous party.   

Okay, so I am a stick in the mud for refusing a glass of champaign. No, it is just that the bubbles won’t go down. 

Go ahead and label me an old curmudgeon with no joy in my life. No, I just select things that don’t get in the way of my nap or bedtime.  

Maybe I’m just becoming an old codger. I’m not sure of the definition of “old codger,” but I know one when I see one. They sit around McDonalds for breakfast or in donut shops. They’re not in a hurry to go anywhere or do anything. Surely, I’m not one of them because I always have somewhere to go and something to do including going to bed before the ball drops. 

On the surface it may seem I’m a hopeless old cynic who sees everything as meaningless for not needing to watch the ball drop yet again? NO, I am going to bed FULL OF HOPE FOR THE FUTURE! Vaclav Havel, former President of the Czech Republic, says it better than I can: 

I’m not an optimist because I am not sure everything ends well, nor am I a pessimist because I am not sure everything ends badly. I just have hope in my heart…I am thankful to God for this gift. It is as big as life itself.