Welcome 2023. I guess.

Crawling into bed at 12:01 this morning, Jan. 1, I realized that my elderly dachshund had pooed on the sheets. Not all over the sheets, but he’d done a drive-by wipe on the fitted sheet, right where my body would go. Should go, desperately wanted to go.

I thought long and hard about what to do. My husband was already asleep on his non-poo side of the bed. But beyond logistics, what did this mean for the new year? Was it a good sign or a horrible omen?

If we’re being honest, I’ve had a shit attitude about 2022 for a while now. But I’m torn, too, because even though parts of it have royally sucked, there have been some serious and deep blessings, too.

In an effort to purge the bad juju and right my attitudinal ship, here’s my laundry list of 2023.

The bad:

• My sweet daddy had cancer treatment.
• My auntie broke her hip.
• My brother was in a very serious accident and broke a bunch of stuff.
• Li’l Frankfurter was in crazy pain and had his eye removed. All of this meant I had to miss out on time with my family, too.
• My Guy got COVID.
• I got shingles. Again. I mean, again again.
• I had a breast biospy. Againagainagainagain.
• Loved ones struggled with depression.
• I struggled with depression.
• My uncle died.
• Many friends lost their parents and/or struggled with the realities of elder care, including serious cancer diagnoses.
• My estranged FIL burned down his house, so we moved him across two states to live in our city.
• A beautiful soul in my world was killed by a drunk driver.

The good:

• My dad is doing awesomely after cancer treatment.
• My aunt is doing fine with her hip and impressed the EMTs that such a sweet old lady knew so many bad words.
• My brother is doing great and was even able to laugh that his double walking boots made him look like a lumberjack stormtrooper.
• My Guy and I moved to New Mexico for a month just because we could. !Viva la working from home!
• I was able to spend a restorative few days in Mexico with this brilliant woman, thanks to this other brilliant woman.
• Li’l Frank is doing fine and is everyone’s favorite partially bald, one-eyed doxie.

• My Guy and I are healthy.
• Our families were able to gather this year.
• My Guy and I spent a week at the beach, which is truly my happy place.
• It is legit a fucking miracle FIL wasn’t badly hurt in the fire.
• My Guy and I are Marriaging so hard. All this stuff has just solidified us as a team and makes me feel FIERCE about protecting this man. But don’t worry, we still want to kill each other on the regular.

It’s just a lot, you know? And that’s not even mentioning the COVID elephant in the room. What’s a global pandemic among friends?

I know I’m not the only one who is tired. Deeply, crushingly tired. But I’m trying to look forward, to be thankful, to continue to choose to be happy. To be kind. To sit on the couch because it serves me right now, but maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to do more. Maybe tomorrow, I will move a little farther away from rage and just a smidge closer to peace.

As for last night? I guess my guttural poo-identification sounds woke my sweet spouse. I shared the tragic news of Li’l Frank’s bed desecration. And my brilliant husband suggested I just put a towel over it and deal with it in the morning. So I did. Because sometimes the path of least resistance is The Path.