Stepping on the cat
The first 60 minutes of January 2 told me all I need to know about the year ahead
Yesterday my friend Mike Rose wrote, “Congrats on making it to 2024. Let’s all do our best to not screw it up.”
Today I woke up at 4:10 am, unable to get back to sleep. On my way to make coffee, I stepped on the cat. While the coffee brewed, I downed some crumbly chocolate Pop-Tart with a swig of orange juice, two flavors that have no business being in the same mouth at the same time, ever.
I was halfway to my desk when I stepped on the cat again, spilling about half my coffee on the floor. Is he trying to kill me? A question either of us could have asked the other.
Kneeling down to comfort the cat and mop up the coffee, I got a charlie horse in my upper thigh. Slumping down on the floor in the dark, I waited for the pain to subside. Wetness seeping through my sweatpants told me I’d missed some of the spilled coffee.
Finally seated before my Mac, I decided to make the most of my insomnia by putting the finishing touches on an essay I’d started last week—an essay I’d hoped would be a kind of wry-yet-somehow-earnest reflection on 2023. An essay that would close with notes of caution and hints of optimism about 2024.
I couldn’t get to the essay. Or, rather, I couldn’t get to The Cloud where my draft of the essay was waiting for my edits. The Verizon router shat the bed. Again.
After successfully restarting the internet—or at least my little sliver of it—I brought up the draft and realized it was garbage. Syrupy yet cynical, it read like a chunk of concrete.
It’s now 5:10 am on the second of January, 2024, and I’ve already managed to screw things up. (Sorry, Mike.) And these are the littlest of things. Who knows what gloriously Big and Important things I’ll stumble over in the coming year. Opportunities abound!
And yet.
I managed to write and publish something. This thing you’re reading right now. It may not be good, but it’s not as bad as what I wrote yesterday. Plus, I had half a cup of coffee; the cramp in my leg has subsided; the wet spot on my sweatpants is nearly dry; the internet is working again; and the cat appears to have forgiven me!
2024 is going to be a crummy year. It’s also going to be a great year. In this way, it’ll be like every year before it, and every year ahead. Reframing is what matters. The approach matters. How I adapt, or try to adapt, is what matters.
Cruel cynicism, meet naive optimism. Have at it!
P.S. After posting this, I realized I misspelled charley horse. (Twice, actually.) I’m not going to correct it. It is what it is, and that’ll have to be okay.
You survived day two, so don’t be too hard on yourself! A black cat in the dark could be stepped on by anyone! I’ll be rooting for you! (Actually, I enjoy your writing and look forward to more.)