THE NIGHT BETWEEN THE YEARS

I know that some of you will wonder what the heck I was doing on my computer at this time of the night or, better said, of the year. Right now, here, where I reside, people are getting ready to open their champagne bottles and welcome the New Year. 

Well, I have already done that. I can't be sure if there are still restrictions due to Covid. I don't own a TV set. I haven't owned one in ages, and I don't intend to get one. It takes too much time from my life, and mostly on commercials. I see enough commercials on the Internet. 


But I digress. The possession of a TV is not essential. Nevertheless, it explains why I am not aware of any restriction concerning going out after ten p.m. 


So, I opened my bottle of champagne with my family at about ten to get at home before eleven. It was a good bottle: a Dom Perignon. After I took a sip or two, I learned something. That so much praised champagne was wasted on us or, at least, on me. Yes, it tastes good, even though it is somewhat too dry and not as sweet as I prefer my drinks. But I couldn't say anything more about it. Of course, that comes from someone who drinks something once a year - usually on New Year's Eve, so my assessment must be way off. Ignore it, in other words. 


We had dinner and watched an old movie about a darn cat. We laughed a lot, but that's the sum of the excitement for the year to come. 

I had more excitement getting to my mum's house. 

I took a cab, of course. I had promised Rex to get back in three hours max, and he does have a clock hidden somewhere in his mind. He always knows when I am late and makes a lot of noise about it. If I am on time, he is happy to see me, and that's all.

Anyways, I knew I was lying this time. It would have been impossible to get back within three hours. Still, I rationalized that a cab there and one back might shave off some of the time. 


So, let's get back to the drive there. I was lucky enough to have an excellent driver. However, I can't tell you how he steered the wheel. He held his cell phone with one hand, replying to messages on WhatsApp and the other on his thigh, keeping the song's rhythm on the radio.

I kept telling myself that I would say something. Maybe ask him to put at least an elbow on the steering wheel, but the words didn't seem to get out of my mouth. 

We got there in one piece, and that was a relief. I don't think that a pleasant visit to the hospital would have enhanced the quality of the evening. 

The drive back was peaceful. Nothing seemed to phase the driver. He understood traffic, the parking problems in the city, and everything, to be honest. He accepted everything with serendipity.  

At ten thirty, I got home. Rex did his usual show - I was late over half an hour, after all. He calmed down and ate his food, asking for a treat afterwards. Well, he was entitled. He had been a good boy this evening. Not so much in the afternoon, but that's water under the bridge. 

Then the bombing started. It's been over an hour, and believe it or not, it is still going strong. Interesting, though. It's not even midnight. NIne minutes more to go, and 2022 will be welcomed with smoke and noise firecrackers. I wonder what it would say about that. Maybe he would turn his back, thinking it had tried, but it wasn't worth the pain. Who the heck would love to live in such a disruptive world? Forget about climate change and all that bombing would do to the environment. 

Wow, it's getting louder. I wonder when it'll stop. A year ago, a guy noticed that the country could have been attacked, and everyone would have clapped full of joy. He knew something, though. It sounds like we're under a bomb barrage. I tried to go out. I had the feeling I heard a cat mewing. However, I took only one step out of the house. They came at me from everywhere. I have hardly managed to get cover. That's why this blog is ten minutes late. 

Well, 2022 must be excited because of this warm welcome. Definitely. 
I don't think I could say anything more but HAPPY NEW YEAR! MAY ALL YOUR WISHES COME TRUE!  

I can't think anymore - it's murder outside, and Rex is killing my brains inside. Let's hope you'll hear from me next year. Maybe the house won't go up in flames, though. 

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