Somebody call Oprah. I have a confession: I don't make New Year's resolutions.
Statistics justify my position. Apparently, 40 percent of people fail their New Year's resolution by Jan. 2. Another 40 percent have given up by the end of the first week and an additional 30 percent have thrown in the towel by the middle of January. That means that by this time each year, only 20 percent of people are still sticking to their resolution to improve their math skills.
So don't be too hard on yourself if you've already blown your resolution. Especially if it was to lose weight. For the love of the Pillsbury Poppin' Fresh Doughboy, if we were meant to lose weight in January, then New Year's wouldn't be plunked right smack dab in the middle of the coldest, darkest, most fat-hankering time of year. You were doomed from the start.
Don't worry. I'm not one of those too-good-to-be-true types who don't make resolutions because they think we should all be trying to be our best selves every day. If you happen to be one of those people, all I can say is I'd better not catch you cutting ahead of me in the buffet line at Golden Corral.
No, it's because, like most of you, my success rate isn't very good. And cramming one more failed resolution onto a list already jam-packed with ones like "de-clutter everything" and "simplify my life" is more than I can bear. Too bad I hadn't made a resolution to be more ironic.
***
But there was hope recently when I found myself with an hour to kill at Bed, Bath and Beyond. The Agway was closed and I'm allergic to NAPA Auto Parts.
I innocently wandered into the curtains section and remembered a long ago resolution to do something about the drapes in the living room. Surely, I thought, with almost 60 minutes on my hand and a coupon in my pocket I could check one of those old resolutions off my list.
My enthusiasm for the project was quickly dampened when I arrived home.
Me: "I found some great new window treatments for the living room."
Husband: "We have window treatments in the living room?"
Kids: 'We have a living room?"
It's true. The living room is rarely used. Which could account for why the drapes are so old they're wearing shoulder pads. Once I managed to get the drapes down, I discovered the curtain rods had become superfluous because there was enough dust embedded in the fabric to allow them to stand there unassisted.
While wrestling the asthma-inducing heap into the garbage, I noticed a small bit of paper. Turns out it was the washing instructions. Who knew?
The now-bare windows presented a new problem. Apparently the old drapes had been hiding many things. Like one of the lost tribes of Israel, and a mold colony so large it had formed its own neighborhood association that was now demanding free curbside trash pickup. The mold was probably due to a leak in an upstairs bathroom we've been meaning to remodel (New Year's resolution, 2007).
And now that the curtains were down, I had a clear view of the backyard and that weird ugly corner I was going to try to fix up with some landscaping (2005) as well as the bare lawn that needed reseeding (2010).
***
But I figured those reminders of my past failures were outweighed by the fact I'd soon have nice, new curtains. That is, until I opened them up and realized they'd been folded into the package by an origami master with a serious sadistic streak. Meaning I'd have to get out both the iron and ironing board. The latter would need to be excavated from under a pile of school pictures and artwork that I've been wanting to organize into scrapbooks for the kids (New Year's resolutions 2004, 2006, 2008 and 2009).
Since no good deed goes unpunished, my new curtains brought reminders of old unfinished projects. But I'm not going to feel guilty. Instead, I'm making a resolution to become a collector of unfulfilled resolutions. That's one I can keep.
Betsy Bitner is author of the blog lostintheadirondacks.com and a mystery writer. She divides her time between Clifton Park and the Adirondacks. Her email address is bbitner1@nycap.rr.com.