I'm back in New York today, and it feels like an abandoned library, quiet and dusty, like someone forgot to put out the “closed until the New Year” sign on the bridges and tunnels. And I am okay with that. I love working the week between Christmas and New Year's. Really. I turn on some music and clean my office – physically and digitally – and try to shore things up and get new things started. So maybe this is the emo music Pandora is playing for me right now (live "Landslide" cover from the Dixie Chicks…live "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" cover from the Indigo Girls…you understand, surely), but I’m feeling…pensive? Contemplative? Moody and swoony at once?...as I try to nail down the feeling this time of year always brings.
Last week I finished something big, and am using this time to catch up on the rest of my life, on the books I can rarely ever read without guilt (I should always be doing Something Else with my time, after all), the shows I kept DVRing, which forced me to dodge spoilers on Twitter, the clothes I kept meaning to put away, the floors I kept meaning to sweep, the emails I kept meaning to write. This week, I shall do All the Things.
Meanwhile, I will wait for it to get cold. I want to see my breath puff out in the shape of my words. I want to wear my puffy coat. I want to start longing for warmth.
And meanwhile again, I will send a little thank you to the stars for making 2011 a year to remember, and I'll start suspecting that 2012 will be the best year yet, because they all seem to just be getting better.