As a northern Hoosier, I should be shrugging and indicating that, hey, there’s no need for a heavy coat. Heck, just run barefoot out to the car. But this fall, except for one quickly melting snow, has been warm, with temps often between 35 and 59?. And, thus it was when I opened my eyes this morning and checked my phone, I exclaimed, “It’s ONLY fire degrees!” in a totally different way; that would be the “Oh, God, we’re going to freeze!!!!!” line of expression. Not unlike Prissy in Gone With the Wind who became hysterical as she told Miss Scarlet she had never delivered no babies.

I think it is a very good idea to keep a sleeping bag in your car in winter – especially a well-made, guaranteed to like -50? or so. However, one way or another, a really good sleeping bag wound up on the garage floor and then wrapped around the front axle of a car. I have an idea about the one way or another but I am not going there, because after spending two hours on a garage floor, reaching around a wheel with knives and poultry scissors, I freed the bag – in pieces – and might have the urge to get revenge.

This, Gee, Grandma can get things done wears a little after awhile. I mean to teach someone to not panic, to just figure out what you have to do and do it is one thing when you are passing the torch down generations. It is another when you are being passed the buck.

I did have a little fun with someone Friday. We printed out two copies of the New York Times Hard Sudoku puzzle and sat together on a sofa working separately, only one of us was talking . . . numbers and remarking on how much she had done and how well it was going. So I sighed and asked her to desist, but that only made her think she had more of an edge by doing it.

I remarked that I needed an eraser and concentrated on “DO NOT LISTEN TO THE RANDOM NUMBERS SHE IS CALLING OUT AS YOU WORK.” Hubris was strong, but hubris is not the Force and as she made more distracting chatter, I quietly said, “I’m finished.” The look on her face was not priceless, but it wasn’t cheap. I’m gloating; I will meet Karma; I don’t care.

Just when I thought it was safe to look at a politic page, this popped up. I have no idea why this man so annoys me – well, maybe I do.

I don’t understand how I went so long without having a bagless vacuum cleaner, because you just feel so good when you flip the lever and you see all the dirt flop into a trash bag. And, every now and then, you can go and wash out the container that comes off and has no bag. I have a Shark vacuum and if I want to get exercise, I can stretch it out on the floor and jump over it again and again. I feel so silly having written that just because I thought of the “jump the shark” line, but I absolutely do not care. Silliness is not necessarily a bad thing – perhaps it is all those Microscopic Silly Imps jumping up and down shouting Yea! in my brain lifts my spirits.

Not that brain surgeons should necessarily have moments of silliness when they are poking around professionally. Kind of a scary thought. Maybe people with occupations along that line should have a designated silly time to get it out of their systems safely.

I had to get up this morning to take someone to work; it was probably a good thing since there was no contract that yesterday’s cascade of minor disasters would end at midnight. Once upon a time I would have written a guidebook, complete with historic marker signs, about the events of yesterday. I would have included little posts of foam bricks so people could re-enact the pounding of the forehead aimlessly against a brick wall. But I’m not up for that now. All I can manage is “cracked taillight” and “AUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHH” Did you hear that; if so, sorry – I would have muffled the primal call of frustration with the foam bricks had I written the story the first way I mentioned.

I believe a lot of people decide that they will blog everyday for a year. I decided to take that unnecessary responsibility off the table; in fact I threw it off because often people have nothing worth saying every single day. Of course, there are folks who take some psychological comfort from just writing down whatever they are thinking or their mood and so they write. That’s okay; (it has to be okay because I think I do it a lot.)

But now, if I don’t feel I will get some solace or motivation from just rambling along, I am not in that group of people who feel the pressure of having to post something. I suppose I could have started by not posting on the 1st, but it just seemed more perverse to do it this way. I am now wondering if that should be worrisome. Probably.

I sometimes wish I had been born with the personality of a girl I will designate as “D in Motion.” Actually, there are quite a few people whose personality I envy; they would know who they are. I sometimes think of what they would do or say . . . but perversely, I do something less wise – because I am AMELIAJAKE.

It could be possible that when these nice people get frustrated, they wish they could throw an AmeliaJake fit and get the stress out; maybe I could rent myself out as a proxy.

What? However did this happen? I thought Christmas had just passed . . . yesterday. It works out there have been several “yesterdays” since Christmas and KABOOM, this is New Year’s Eve Day; within hours it will be New Year’s Eve proper and then – 2016.

So many times, people refer to some impending event with the teasing remark: Wait for it . . . Wait for it . . . I don’t think that’s appropriate here; no need to wait – it’s going to come and whack us on the head.

This year is going to be what I make it with my attitude, and, unfortunately, I am not a natural “upbeat” attitude maker; I am more the Chicken Little Sky is falling type.

But enough whining. Oh, now I remember, there’s never enough whining for me. It just comes so naturally and easily. Sigh.

Well, I think I see what a major New Year’s Resolution should be for me:

DON’T BE A BLASTED TWIT. Now, I just need to remember that resolution every day when I get up. I can TWEET, but I mustn’t be a TWEETING TWIT.

I have a major case of the Morning Drearies. The symptoms are primarily a profound aversion to actually starting anything. I have not started to go get the oil changed in the car; I have not started to even think about taking the shower I need to take before I can go get the car new oil and transmission fluid. In fact, I thought about it and started to get up off my compfy sofa and half-way up I thought, “Nah, humbug to that.” I sat back down.

But this is the real clue that I have a severe case of the Drearies – I have not even started reading any of the new books on my Kindle . . . and I have not checked the sites that have limited-time offers on good books – you know, the FREE or $.99 deal on the books that are best sellers. Once they offered The Inferno by Brown for FREE, back when it was hot, hot, hot on the bestseller list.

I need something to get me motivated, but preferably not a good kick in the ass, to use a bit of vulgar language my father would have frowned at. I don’t know, since the Morning Drearies are getting pretty darn close to being a case of the All Day Drearies, maybe in lieu of the Kick in the A**, I should line up for an invigorating Slap up the Side of the Head.

I think I might be going easy on myself; it may not be the Drearies at all. It may be the Lazies. I have not even brought in the dirty clothes from my trip to be washed – good thing it’s cold in my trunk. This is not a difficult task – bring dirty clothes in, open washer, drop them in, add soap and push a button. Oh, Heavens, I’ve tired myself out already. This does not bode well for an active new year and if I were to make New Year’s Resolutions, the list would be so incredibly long, even thinking of doing it is daunting.

I need fairy dust; I need some happy, cheerful fairy godmother to come along and sprinkle me with the dust of “Whistle While You Work” industriousness and motivation.