A friend asked me the other day if I had any.
I told her that my resolution was to hold on, white-knuckled, to the miraculous amount of self-discipline I already have.
Though I procrastinate every single morning—usually by fiddling with this blog—in 24 years of life as a professional writer and editor, I've never missed a single deadline.
I exercise regularly, and gamble almost never.
I eat a lot of broccoli even though it sucks but because it's good for what my mother called my "corpsuckles."
For the same reason, I scan the business section of the New York Times—on Sunday!
When the pint glass of milk runs out, I put the cookies away.
There are a lot of things I'd like to say that I don't say, believe me.
When the bartender tells me it's closing time, I leave without starting any trouble.
And I'm supposed to add items to that precisely yet precariously constructed house of cards?
We should call them New Year's Congratulations.