Party Like It's 1987?

I could not sleep for the life of me the other night. Was it because my husband was snoring? Nah… that's a regular occurrence that apparently only I hear, as he denies it. (How can he know if he's snoring or not when I'm the one hearing it?!?!) Maybe it was the residual effects of the stomach bug I had from Sunday afternoon until the middle of this week? Nah… I was illness free and for the most part, well-rested. Then what was it? What caused me to shoot up at 2 a.m. like a mysterious force in a scene from "The Exorcist" and then lay back down with my eyes seemingly glued open, watching the sunrise over Wyckoff? 

As I lay there, I remember a few thoughts running through my sleepless mind:

• Did I take the clothes out of the washer and put them in the dryer?
• Was that the dog I heard walking around or Jack the Ripper?
• It was so excellent seeing my son's face when he saw his house made out of candy on Christmas morning.
• 2010 was only two nights away …

That was it! 2010?!? What the heck?!? How did THAT happen?

Isn't it still 1987, and I'm cruising around in a white convertible VW Rabbit, top down, heat on? Didn't I just do "drop off" (which had a totally different meaning then) to my BFF's houses on Wyckoff Avenue, Ewing Avenue and Brookside Avenue? Weren't we figuring out if we were going to someone's house for New Year's Eve or maybe even the city? And what pray-tell would we wear?

Wasn't I heading over to Devon Renee for a last-minute jewelry fix or to Total Concept to see if anything (something) could be done with my mop of curls for the night?

Well, wake up sister, it's not 1987, and you're certainly not going to an all-you-can-drink bar! The current New Year's festivities include sushi take-out from Sakura and a six-pack, salads from Cafe Amici or pizza from my new fave, The Flatz Co. There's noise, alright, but from my own kids. And the only jewelry worn is sparkles from our New Year's hats and blowers.

I turned over and tried to close my eyes but couldn't sleep. I recalled all those New Years Eve's (or as many as I could remember)… there was one or two in the city, one at The Brick House, one at a friend's house (well, her parents house—they were in London ringing in the New Year!), one on an island in the Caribbean and one skiing in Vail. Not bad. Then my playbook shifted to this year's potential… I felt clammy yet chilly, restless yet exhausted, sad and then, surprisingly, increasingly happy. Happy? Yes, happy knowing that I'd "been there, done that" and I'm back again for a different version, ending right where it all began.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
and never brought to mind?  
Should auld acquaintance be forgot  
and days of auld lang syne?"