One supercalifragilisticexpialidocious New Year

Once Christmas is over, tension mounts in our home as the little woman and I start ticking off the days. We both remain on edge because we dread the coming of the New Year—a time when the whole world goes crazy and adopts resolutions. We, too, make New Year promises and our ‘list of past resolutions’ is very long and impressive. Unfortunately, we are complete failures at keeping them and our ‘list of resolutions not kept’ is equally long and equally impressive.

- K.C. VERMA

The resolutions of past years fall in four categories. Those that only I had to keep, like shaving every day; those that only the missus had to keep, like not biting her nails; or those that both of us had to keep, like meeting our friends more regularly. Sadly, at the end of every year, the report has always been: I did not. She did not. We did not. The fourth category is lofty, aspirational stuff—healthy eating, exercising, losing weight, saving money, watching less TV and similar wishful thinking. Without fail, all such resolutions are dead and buried by the middle of January, year after year.

The sense of failure was so acute that I started suffering from RMD—Recurring Mid-January Depression—a common malady among weak-willed people who see their magnificent resolutions shatter a week or two into the New Year. Being aware of my annual despondency, last year my wife advised me to keep things simple. “Why not resolve to do things that even an imbecile could? Like not leaving a damp towel in the wardrobe. Or not throwing your smelly socks under the bed. Simple stuff. Easy-peasy!”