Here we are.
We’re in the future now. Blade Runner was set last year, we’re way past Marty McFly’s furthest dalience with the future. The video game Perfect Dark Zero happens this year.
We don’t have hoverboards, replicants or jet packs. Not even self-tying shoes, although Matt Parker can teach you a trick – using maths – to ties your laces with one pull.
We’re a month away from hopping out the EU and crashing into a firey heap of having next to no manufacturing base for exports and having to import chicken that the Americans have washed in chuff-knows what. But we do have a natty line in hipster cafes, maybe the world wants that.
I just want to get to some normality post-Christmas! We have piles of clothes in baskets around the house, a ton of washed bedding that needs sorting and who knows what else!
I’ve barely been at home in the last six days and I’m just looking forward to sitting down and pairing a few pairs of socks. Or hoovering something.
Or just seeing what the inside of my house looks like in daylight.
And looking forward to everything else I mentioned the other day that I can complain about not doing in 365 days time. And this year I get to design and build an escape room, which is stupidly exciting but also incredibly stressful.
And I start the year unmedicated. The last decade saw me spiral into some sort of stressy depression lunacy which alienated people, saw me going to work almost in tears and tore my life apart.
This decade, hopefully, that’s all in check. Everything’s good. 2020 could be a decent year – apart from all the political shite and the almost certain nuclear winter of Donald Trump’s handling of North Korea – with nice things in it.
Right now, though, pass me those socks.