Amber

Countdown...3...2...1...

Happy same nonsense as last year!!!!

I’m just as happy as the next guy about watching 2020 limp its gimpy tail out the back door, but I can’t convince myself that 2020 hit the legal drinking age, and it’s all downhill from here. 

What is the stroke of midnight going to change for you, or me, or the rest of the world? 

COVID-19 and all the ridiculousness surrounding it doesn’t expire at midnight on New Year’s Eve. It does what everything else has done over the last 12 months...it mutates into something uglier than it already was. Thanks, UK and Colorado! 

Vaccines won’t magically multiply and spirit themselves into the waiting hands of our local shot-callers. Let’s be real, even if it did, I won’t suddenly want to take it. 12:01 blinking on all the clocks in my house won’t make me trust this mish-mosh of God knows what that they threw together to see who could get rich the quickest. If you feel the need to get the old jab, go for it. I’m not judging those that are willing to risk the side effects of this much too quickly created sludge injection. I just won’t be next to you in line. 

That business that couldn’t make ends meet while the government told us to sit in the corner won’t suddenly open its doors on January 1st. The small business owners won’t pop out of freshly stocked stores shouting, “Just joking! We’re open for business!” Those doors are closed, and most of them permanently. That restaurant around the block with the to-die-for brisket nachos or the killer crawfish...hope you liked it while it was there because the ‘Rona and the Guv’na helped send them packing. New year, new favorite spot, I guess. 

For those of you that struggle with the flutter of moths in your bank accounts and wallets instead of the jingle-jangle of spare change and foldable money, welcome to the family. I’m sorry to inform you that 2021 will not bring you great fortune. 

We will still be just as broke as we always have been. If you do strike it rich, though, remember me because I need stock tips or lottery numbers. 

Thanks to the Great and Powerful Ginger for the $2,000. 

I say that like it’s come through or like I expect it to, but if or when it does, I’ll appreciate it just long enough to pay another bill, and then I’ll be right back where I started. Even though realistically, I shouldn’t have to appreciate it since it’s my money anyway but thanks for shaving some scraps out of Pakistan’s gender crisis so I could afford an eye exam for the first time in 7 years. 

I hope you all socially distanced in your New Year’s Eve parties of 10 or less. I hope you sipped your champagne through your 4-layer masks. I hope you left lipstick prints on the inside layer of that champagne soggy mask as you snatched a midnight kiss as clocks across America tolled. 

I hope you slept soundly with fairy-tale dreams of a better year to come. The slightly less cynical part of me hopes all of those things are pleasant for you and those dreams become a reality for all of us. 

I pray that COVID will sit its worrisome behind down somewhere. I wish that store would open back up. I hope we all hit the jackpot. I hope Pakistan gets its hoohah business worked out and the Senate enjoys those chairs. 

The slightly less cynical part of me is kind of a flake though so I don’t expect much. 

3...2....1. Happy New Year friends. I hope 2020’s drunk cousin 2021 doesn’t treat us all like we’re garbage.

Amber Lollar is the senior reporter for The Henderson News. Her e-mail address is <reporter@thehendersonnews.com>. © 2020, Henderson Newspapers Inc.

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