THE SONIC BOOMER
I’m busy counting the days until New Year’s Eve, a night of drunken stupor that I used to think was brought on by a giddy anticipation of the pending new year, and which I now know is a congratulatory celebration on having made it through the last one.
To wit, I have written up my Top 5 New Year’s Resolutions based on experiences I’ve had in 2024… even though, to my mind, I’m not the one who should change. Here’s who should change;
- My bank. Why do you have a “Business Clients Teller” if you have merged all waiting customers into one line and don’t care which teller they go to? When I questioned this, you said yes, there is no longer a defined teller for businesses. When I suggested you then remove the “Business Clients Teller” sign, you responded, “We’d love to, but we’d have to find someone to do that.” Is your entire organization’s customer service platform really based on the availability of a handyman with a ladder and a chisel? If so, here’s my first resolution: to bring said equipment with me on my next visit. And here’s my second: to change banks.
- My husband. When I bake three different kinds of Christmas cookies and label them “OK to eat,” why would you eat the ones labeled “Save for cheesecake crust” as well? When I get up in the morning all set to bake a cheesecake for the evening’s party and find a key ingredient missing, I get cranky. When I do, the correct response is to a) apologize and b) get in your car and replace the missing item. The incorrect response is to say, “I guess you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Resolution number three: Go back to hiding food under the bed, and I don’t mean just the Halloween candy.
- My grandchildren. When I get an urgent text from your parents — who are indisposed at the moment — to rush across town to your school and pick you up because you feel “sick,” do not tell me you “feel better” upon my arrival. I knew it was the last-day-of-school party even if you did not. I knew that you were scheduled to go to Bennett’s house and play even if you forgot. A “sorry” text does not pay for my gasoline and only extends the time it is going to take me to get to the store and replace the cookies that grandpa ate. Resolution number four: Shove those kids into the car no matter what they say.
- My neighbor. Why do you think you do not need to knock on the door before entering? I am beginning to feel you are waiting to catch me in some illicit behavior. Wasn’t that time I had a plastic bag on my head enough? Didn’t you feel my pain during my embarrassed, blathering explanation about drips? Didn’t it scare you when you found me with only my legs extending from under the living room sofa? And what about that time I was “dancing like nobody was watching?” Somebody was watching, and it was you. Resolution number five: Keep the door locked even if my husband is on the front porch.
The list goes on (and on), but there is only so much holiday cheer one reader can be expected to bear. Thanks for listening. Oh, by the way, have a Happy New Year!
