Among party hats, glittery decorations, and champagne bubbles, I find there is a thoughtful side to New Year. This is the time of the year, when we readers take stock of how many books we’ve read the last year. My number is hardly admirable and of course I want to read more in 2016, but I haven’t measured out a certain number. My previous goal was one book per week and no, I didn’t read that in 2015.
But there is one book, that really makes my fingers tingle around New Year, more than counting down to the stroke of midnight: my new calendar! Do my bubbles reach the surface, you may ask? Yes, as a matter of fact, they do.
Sometime in December, when my Christmas shopping list is as long as the queues in the stores, I remind myself that I have to buy a new calendar, and the hustle and bustle of a people-packed mall simply disappears. I muse in front of the shelves with big calendars, small calendars, colorful calendars, fancy pancy calendars, and obscenely expensive calendars, until I find MY calendar. This year, I’ve gone smaller than I usually do, seeing as my calendar doubles as a kind of journal.
The next step is moving in. I mean that: moving in. There are the national holidays, birthdays, vacations, and every other date of significance that needs to be entered together with passwords – slash that – phone numbers for my mechanic and dentist. I am not one of those creative journaling types, who end up with artwork on every page, but I still write, note, and doodle whatever comes in handy.
And then, I’m ready for the sound of the clock of City Hall in Copenhagen as it strikes that first gong and my entire family jumps from the couches and into the New Year.
Happy New Year! May your calendar and your reading adventures make you bubble with joy.