An annual to-do list you enthusiastically write on January 1st and accidentally recycle by January 7th.
An annual to-do list you enthusiastically write on January 1st and accidentally recycle by January 7th.
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The annual tradition of lying to yourself for exactly 11 days before blaming capitalism for your lack of discipline.
Next year’s plan to correct for this year’s overcorrection of last year’s mistakes.
A goal so ambitious, it requires a full year of procrastination to properly ignore.
Optimism’s annual comeback tour, cancelled after the opening act.
A list of how you’ll be different, pinned to the fridge right next to a list of pizza places.
Next year’s first inside joke between you and you.
A delayed, 365-day homework assignment you give yourself every December 31st
A personal mandate so negotiable, it makes a politician’s pledge look binding.
The art of turning last year’s guilt into this year’s self-improvement fan fiction.
A gym membership’s one-month raison d’être.
A solemn promise to yourself that expires faster than a carton of holiday eggnog.