It’s 1st of January and my fingers feel again the tingles of writing. Half a year has passed without me experiencing the call. I know, you keep a blog alive with the sweat of work, but what can I do if other stuff climbed on top of my priorities’ scale?!

It has been a hell of a year’s end, a burn out from life had invaded me, that type from which not even in the Netherlands, its home, you cannot get medical leave. Anyway, I am going to die as Romanian wherever life will take me, and us Romanians we do not know about such luxuries as a burn out, these are bourgeois ideas of westerners spoiled by history 😊.

Like I said, it was hard, but it’s over now. And you can accuse me as much as you want of cliché or naivety, but in my world this Beginning thing really means something. There is a dialysis happening, my veins are swelling with fresh blood, with energy for about 300 days as in the end I crawl without direction like a dying candle.

And I’m not writing now because it’s the first point on my new year resolutions’ list (I don’t do the list, I know I will not keep them, and I better leave it like that, naked, nude even), it just came along with the children singing wishes for the new year or with St. Vasile, someone said on Facebook, I had no clue about this saint we celebrate on 1st of January .

It was a weird day, not to say bad, and, diabolical as I am, I’ve only eaten two apples by this time. But no worries at all as I’ve stacked in me so many ice cream boxes in the last 65 days of the year that I can easily make a detox like any respected woman does. And I also read on facebook that you can easily live with fruit, and it is even recommended this diet for your children, little greedy creatures and wage-eaters.

My New Year’s Eve party, better saying the requiem of 2018, began with some honorable intentions, seasoned music on the spotify, a softer dinner rather mediocre, and a bottle of wine opened nervously in remembrance of the mega-parties from the old times. Everything was from grandiose up until 10 o’clock when I calmed down and started a load of laundry in the washer. Exactly 5 minutes before the gong, all my laundry was hanging peacefully on the hanger. My guy has been snoring for a good hour already, and I was shaking hardly the t-shirts, maybe he will wake up, so the new year will catch us happy. But nothing moved him, nor the war that followed.

In the small village in Austria where I have been skiing for a few years and where you hear only the cows and also these not too much as they are busy producing Milka, some Dutch landed, right in the neighboring apartment. And for the ignorant of the Dutch, I must tell you that this people keep bravely and with Calvinistic stoicism all the emotions in the drawers for a whole year, but on the New Year’s Eve, they let everything explode. Literally. And these Dutch from last night were pure Dutchies. Starting 7 PM, some devilish children, many as this is the fashion in the Netherlands, have begun to explode stuff. And they kept it for an hour. They missed by 1 cm the destruction of the car and burning down the dry winter garden. Then silence. 5 min after 12, despite the clock, they took out their heavy artillery, some crates that two people were carrying in the middle of the street, and then, brother, light the fire! We were on the balcony, that is, in the first line of war. My daughter was hysterical with pleasure, it was raining from the sky with paper and plastic, I was trying to put her to bed, my guy was irremediable snoring … Now, there is no noise coming from the Dutch, no emotion, no cry, no swearing, they went into normal until the next jolt.

It’s half past 6, and I feel like I burned all the fat. The good and the bad ones. Moreover, the devil seduced me into the sauna that sparked everything that was up to my soul. 2019 may begin, I have purified myself. Happy New Year! I hope to hear each other more often.

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