It shouldn't come as a big surprise when I say I don't make New Year's Resolutions. I used to but started getting pretty discouraged by the morning of January 2nd when I had already failed.
No worries, I've learned to accept that about myself. It became obvious fairly quickly that since I couldn't keep them, why bother making them.
There was the time I decided I would stop eating Oreos. I made it a day.
Then there was the one year I decided to make a budget. I got half of it written out.
I remember the one year I pulled out a checkbook with the intent of balancing it with my statement every month. Yeah, right. By the way, hats off to those who enjoy doing that sort of thing.
I can fondly recall the house cleaning schedule I made in an effort to keep a better house in the new year. I can't remember where I put it though.
Organization? In my dreams.
Drop 10 lbs in a week? Unless I get food poisoning, probably not gonna happen.
Exercise regularly? Does it mean I have to sweat? Then no.
Decrease my addiction to social media? You may as well cut off my arm.
Meal planning? Actually I'm good at that one since it only takes a 1/2 hour for pizza delivery.
Increase my leafy greens consumption? Can I hide them in a brownie?
Rethink my mochas? I prefer to be awake during the day.
Continue my quest for vegetarianism? There is a little thing called bacon that keeps messing with me.
Stop eating sugar? My body would go into shut down mode.
Can you imagine if I tried to observe Lent?