The Resolutions

The alarm jolted the man back into reality again this morning. He summoned the willpower he had mustered and reached over to punch at his phone to silence it for the final time this morning. He swung his legs off the bed and forced himself to stand. Resolution number one: Get to bed at a reasonable time so that he could wake at a reasonable time. Resolution number two: Make his bed as soon as possible so that he would not be so tempted to crawl back into its safety.

With the bed made, he padded off to the kitchen to start some coffee. He could still feel last night's champagne in the heaviness of his limbs and see it in the fog that veiled his thinking. He would give up drinking this year. Well, no, he told himself as he contemplated the nice bottle of bourbon his brother had given him at Christmas, but he would resolve to drink less at least, proud of himself and rather relieved that the bourbon had stayed in its place last night.

He did not need to stare at himself in any mirror to know that number four on the list would be to run and work out more. The dad bod was meant for fathers, was it not, men who were too busy swinging around laughing children to be swinging around chunks of iron? No excuse like that was going to come from some other room rubbing bleary eyes, though the dog was watching him now with that look which he thought must have inspired Messrs. Hannah and Barbara in creating their wolf character. He measured out a bowl of food and watched Stella the labrador-mix dive into it thinking, resolution five: Put down your fork between bites.

The man took his first sip of coffee and felt the elixir immediately begin to do its work lifting the veil over his thinking. Minutes later the dog emerged from the kitchen with a new look, one that seemed to ask if that was all the food there was. The man took a long draw off his coffee, set down the half-filled mug and said, "Okay, tubby. Let's get this part over with." He wondered for a flash whether he had been talking to the dog or to himself.

Convincing himself that the exercise was as much for Stella's sake as for his own, he changed into a workout outfit - running tights, long-sleeved t-shirt, another long-sleeved pullover for workouts, beanie cap and running gloves. The mornings were so cold, but at least there was sun and no snow. "Crisp," he told himself as he stepped out onto the porch. Stella in her shaggy coat was ready to go and pulled at the leash. "Refreshing," he tried to remind himself.

The pair ran along the main artery of the neighborhood, though there were few cars out even at this relatively late time. Other people were no less eager to dive into 2024 apparently. At a little over a half mile, where the street split to meander north and south through a newer subdivision, the man did an about face and started back, the dog momentarily confused at immediately retracing their route, but falling back in stride with the carefree attitude of a dog. They finished a slow mile and the man told himself, "Baby steps."

Could "Find a job," really be a New Year's resolution? Should he resolve to eat and breathe while he was at it? Sitting at his laptop now, he read over his resume. Even though he had spent time updating it in December, it still sounded like someone he himself did not recognize. Well, what was a resume now except for some mystical key to get through an algorithm in some company's HR system? "Open sesame," he typed at the bottom and then closed the document without saving any changes. Resolution number six: Find some thankless new job to hitch himself, his mortgage, and his ex-wife's mortgage to.

Still in his cold-weather gear, he sat down with a second cup of coffee and turned on the news. The weather girl, er meteorologist, laid out a week of cold and sun in her graphics. A cold and sunny first week of January for Denver. Also, the sky is blue and the sun rises in the east. How many messages with the offer of dinner dates did this meteorologist get each week, he wondered. Did she want children, he wondered, or would she keep saying that she was concentrating on her career or the timing just was not right until she ran off with his best friend and started a family with him? He thought of all he could offer the sunny-faced woman on screen: Dad bod. Polished resume. Three separate 401k accounts waiting for the day he would roll them all into one. A wiry-haired, four-legged running and hiking companion, that would somehow steal a loaf of bread from on top of the refrigerator, but also run into a burning building to save you? If she acted quickly, he also came with a time-share in Sarasota, which he should really look into selling.

How surprised should he have been that at the stroke of midnight last night, with everyone kissing partners and friends, he was able to quietly slip out and watch the illegal fireworks going off as he walked back home in the crisp, refreshing night air? Lonely, crisp, refreshing night. Number seven: Connect with friends. Scratch that. Number seven: Make a friend.

The man thought about that last resolution as he poured his second cup of coffee and thought about the neighbors' party last night and their friends and his feeling of being an intruder, the feeling that he did not belong there. Why would someone want to make friends with an unemployed, introverted, depression-prone person like him? What, if anything, did he have to offer? He thought back to his college days when he told little white lies at parties to amuse himself -- that his family was successful Basque shepherds, that he once dated Meg White of the White Stripes, that band with the song with the cool bassline, that he once dog sat for Perry Ferrel of Jane's Addiction ("You know, that dog that barks at the beginning of their song "Been Caught Stealing?"). Resolution eight: Get better at pretending.

The news team rolled out their headline stories at the top of the hour. A child kidnapped by its non-custodial parent. Multiple gun fights in the city in the early morning of the new year. An apartment fire that incinerated people's budding hopes for 2024 and new Christmas presents along with most of everything else they owned. Renewed violence in the Middle East. And the sky is still blue and sun still rises in the west. Resolution nine: Somehow make it to 2025. What good amid these, o me, o life?