It’s a tradition of sorts: I grab my fountain pen and (normally) a notepad I’ve been given for Christmas, and then I start. I’m careful to number them in order of importance. This year, when I finished my long list of resolutions (more extensive than usual), it was with some satisfaction that I replaced the cap on my pen. But my wrist hurt, and my fingers were sore. I also rubbed my tired eyes and stretched and yawned, but worst of all I already knew that of all the self-made promises, I wouldn’t be keeping a single one of them.
"Classic"
|
