I do not call them New Year’s Resolutions. I call them casual promises I make to myself that I am under no obligation to fulfill.

Look, before I agree to 2022, I need to see some terms and conditions. I fell for this trick once before in 2019 and I am hesitant to go to the trouble of getting tipsy and blowing little horns if it’s going to be a godawful year, which I have a tendency to suspect it will.

Here’s my starting list:

While I am interviewing for a job, I will keep it to myself that I have trouble with authority.

I will try to overcome my nomophonia (fear of being left without a mobile phone or being in an area without coverage).

I will stop using hashtags before every word on job applications and IRS filings.

Live my best life and only buy pants with no buttons or zippers. 

Turn all my high heel shoes into cozy house shoes. I will also purchase basic woodworking tools: a saw, a hammer, and a big ole tub of Crazy Glue.

Recycle my tattoo “New Year, New Me (Just Kidding)” for the third year in a row.

Never take HomeGoods trips for granted ever again. Linger in the aisles and touch things. 

Practice to become the GOAT at sarcasm toward

Keep kicking ass and taking names, because detailed record-keeping is important.

Eat more tacos because … Honey, if you need a reason, you ain’t in Texas.

Stop drinking orange juice after I’ve brushed my teeth.

Lose weight by hiding it somewhere you’ll never find it.

Got any of your own?