Katie is miserably sick with a cold, alternating between fitfully dozing and screaming her lungs out, and it is looking to be a very, very long last night of 2012. Which, for the record, is the herpetic sore on the story of my life.
Because I am facebook friends with various relatives and older, dignified people, I could not give 2012 the full sign off there that I wanted to, so without further ado, let me just say here:
in the ear.
with a rusty tent pole.
I will not miss you. I will not pine for you. You are the worst, stupidest year ever.