At last, the actual year matches up to my company's fiscal year. I've waited six long months for this. For the next six months, I can write 2010 on pretty much everything and be accurate. Accurate, that is, until 7/1/10 comes along. Then, for eight hours a day, five days a week, it will be 2011.
About a month ago, I got invited to a New Year's Party *walking distance* from where I live by my friend Scooter. I can't tell you how happy I was, both to have plans, and to have plans that didn't include trying to find a taxi at three in the morning New Year's Eve in Manhattan. However, it ended up not making a difference because on Tuesday, I hurt my back, by, I don't know, sleeping on it, and I haven't really been able to go anywhere since then. Although I was not able to go to the party on the other side of the tracks (I don't know if either side of the tracks are worse than any other, but you do have to cross under the subway to get to Scooter's apartment), six of my folding chairs were able to make it. It felt amazingly neighborly to be able to lend out something as mundane as chairs. Almost like being asked for a cup of sugar. I also can't believe how much more room I have in my apartment. Scooter doesn't know this, but I'm not taking them back any time soon.
Today, I will venture out for the first time since my back decided to become a frenemy (an enemy that is sometimes also a friend or a friend that is not good for you, for those over the age of forty who might not be up on the lingo), but I don't know how far I'll make it before I have to come back. I hope all the way to the pharmacy. At least there I can get a car to take me home if I need to.