It’s time to admit:

Old habits die hard



By TERRy STAIN

As I was hanging a 2004 calendar in my office yesterday, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret to see that another year has slipped by. I thought the same thing while I hung a calendar in my kitchen this morning, and another one in my bedroom. And I felt outright sad as I was hanging one up on my porch. Finally, I just had to admit it to myself:

I have way too many calendars.

I wonder why time seems to go by so fast anymore. Could it be because I’m getting older? (Why do I have so many calendars?) Or could it be because I went all year with my digital Casio inadvertently stuck on the stopwatch setting? (Am I just a boring person?) Either way, it makes me feel very old, and it is an extremely sobering thought. (I am such a loser).

In fact, there are no words to express how old I feel. Unfortunately, there are numbers. I keep thinking that if I lie about my age to everyone, including myself, maybe I’ll live longer. But even if it doesn’t work, I intend to take the secret to my grave. Along with that cross-dressing misunderstanding in 1982.

In any case, the whole calendar thing started a chain reaction of thoughts, that finally led to me understanding — for the first time — the Pythagorean Theorem. But, even more to the point, I also came to realize a truism insofar as why so many people really make resolutions on New Year’s Eve each year. It’s not because it feels like a “new” beginning, nor because there is a mental “ending” of the previous year. Simply stated, it’s because most of them are at parties, and really, really drunk.

Let’s face it, the beginning of the long, cold winter is not the best time of year to start denying yourself things. I’ve been there myself, vowing to stop smoking, cursing, driving on the sidewalk, etc. I know how hard it can be.

To make matters even more difficult, for those of us who practice the Catholic religion, winter is the harbinger of Lent, during which Catholics must give up some vice anyway. Needless to say, it is a trying time for most Catholics, who must suffer the pangs of guilt from ignoring this practice.

So now is not the time to deny yourself. Life is short. Imagine a little angel and devil on your shoulders, like in the cartoons. And the devil is saying “Don’t you think it’s time you finally bought that Porsche? Why not? Cash out your retirement savings! Borrow from your bookie! And your grandmother’s gold bracelet isn’t going to go to the pawn shop all by itself, is it?”

Meanwhile, the angel is saying, “No, don’t listen to him! You’ll be sorr … wait a minute, did he say a Porsche?”

And if you were thinking of quitting drinking or smoking, my only question is, why? Think of all the fun you had on New Year’s Eve. Just because you woke up New Year’s Day naked in a car wash, and spent all day coughing up things that looked like frog parts, is that any reason to get upset? Watch football and just be glad your TV still works, considering all the people who were dancing on it last night.

And for those of you planning to exercise more, I have three words: STOP THE TREADMILLS! Who do you think you’re fooling? In a week you’ll be getting fat and drunk and using that contraption as a platform for doing cannonballs into your hot tub.

There’ll be plenty of time to lose weight once summer gets here. When you see yourself in a swimsuit and realize your stomach has more folds than a Japanese fan, then is the time to diet. And if not, well, that’s what liposuction is for.

There are all kinds of modern methods and machinery for getting in shape, quitting vices, and feeling better about yourself. To try to achieve these things naturally would be to ignore progress, and a slap in the face to the rest of the human race. So don’t be selfish this year. Crack a beer, unwrap a cigar, and sit down in your favorite chair. And if it doesn’t collapse beneath you, you’re doing fine.

As for me, it’s my day to go jogging. According to the calendar hanging above my scale.

For the record, Terry Stain is not overly infatuated with calendars; he will admit to a somewhat unhealthy interest in sundials.