It’s on.  Just hours left until the biggest party of the year.  Everything is planned perfectly.  New shimmery outfits with nails to match, hair gelled just so, shoes shined to perfection, flowing bubbly, everyone around the globe united in the cause of a fresh start.

Yuck.

Some of us would rather have the “best party ever ever” on any other day of the year.   Why not on a random Tuesday in February?  One where fatigued by the never-ending winter and no sight of the Easter Bunny, we rally to decorate a living room with twinkling lights and ourselves with some glitter.  We open up the good champagne and invite the friends we see every week, plus the ones we see once a year.  And, everyone is taken by surprise at a chance February celebration.

Isn’t surprise the spice of life?  Maybe that’s variety. Either way, what is not to love about moments that unexpectedly become joyfully memorable?

And very little is random or unplanned about New Year’s Eve; most of us have mastered the drill, like a well-oiled military regimen.  Mentally tally up the past year and try to focus on the accomplishments (one more year of gainful employment without going postal), not the perceived failures (the grey hair can no longer be strategically hidden under the right side part).  Set manageable small goals for the upcoming year (drink one less soda a month); and create a plan to fulfill one dream (go dancing once a quarter, in order to eventually become a middle-aged ballerina).

Then it’s all about fasting, and haircuts, and trying to look better than last New Year’s Eve photos.  It’s very familiar – even the certainty that one will freeze hunting for taxis, and that at least two people in the party will drink too much.

So, how do we New Year’s Eve grinches cope?  By grumbling and booking a cab in advance, deep conditioning here and tweezing there, and squeezing into shoes that are inappropriate for the weather, and swearing and vowing that we will not do this again next year.

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