Oy, what a year

So! Have the last twelve months sucked for everybody, or just me?

I know, egocentric much. It isn't really all about me. Well, maybe on this blog it is, but anyway. Beyond that, even, I have a question to put to the audience: if you were asked, "what has been the worst year of your life so far?", would you be able answer immediately, or would you have to think about it?

Before this year, I would have answered without hesitation, 1999. My friend Pat died, my cousin Paul died. I moved, from the house Pat and I shared to an apartment. I switched from working at one Barnes & Noble to another, which was a mess. Not everything about that year was awful, but those two deaths and two difficult changes color my memory of the year. I have to think hard to remember, Mum and I went to PEI that year! It was fun! And, well, there must have been other good things.

Now, of course, my answer would be 2009*, leading me to wonder what it is about me and years that end in 9. However, as I said to someone who wondered what my 2019 will be like, I need to live through the rest of this year before I worry about that. And those famous last words were on Monday, when Harold was fine. So, I think we know I'm knocking wood hard enough to dent it, now.

*Assuming that 2009 started at the end of November 2008. The Year of Maximum Suckage is calculated differently, like a fiscal year.

I'm sort of superficially superstitious, but I don't really believe that if I don't knock wood, something bad happens. If I spill salt, I don't throw some over my left shoulder. Breaking a mirror is just a mess to clean up, and I love black cats as much as any others. Yet still, after the year I've had, I'm really nervous about saying that surely the worst has already happened. I mean, I know more bad things could happen. I hope like hell they won't, but it's not like I have nothing left to lose.

Unless you mean my sanity, or my grip. Those are just about ready to go.

A final thought: a year and a half ago, I mused about knowing that Pan was ill, knowing that he could die any time, and how awful that was. I asked the question:

In my situation, do you think you'd rather know, or not know, how long he has left?

And now I know the answer. Unsurprisingly, it totally and completely sucks either way.

So I am going to make Rice Krispie treats, and maybe knit, and watch the rest of the Bruins game. They're leading 2-0, can they keep it up?