Weren’t we all supposed to be flying our cars around multilevel air highways like the Jetsons by now? And what about those space-needle apartments with robot maids? It’s 2008 and I’m still making my own coffee.
Never mind. It’s time to make resolutions I won’t keep.
Number 1: Go to the gym every day for three hours until I have abs like that gal on The Firm video.
Number 2: Finish every novel I’ve ever started and publish them all. Wear sunglasses to Kroger to escape adoring public.
Number 3: Serve champagne to the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes Prize Patrol when they come calling.
Number 4: Meet Mr. Right, the poet/cowboy/handsome/no crazy ex-wives/millionaire, live happily ever after, and such.
Number 5: Clean out the garage.
Done. If I’m going to disappoint myself it’s best to go all the way.
No Telling 