For the record, I do not typically set resolutions. Furthermore, I don't set goals. Any goal or resolution setting I do for myself is a guarantee that I won't do whatever I have said I will do.
Now some of my friends and colleagues (and bosses) offer to help me "write goals." I know how to write goals, people. It's part of my job. The issue lies in me writing goals for myself. That becomes a problem for anyone who is goal-driven (employers). On my last year's work self-appraisal, I answered the question of "what are your professional goals for the coming year?" with a realistic goal of "keep my license". I have no idea what I'll put down this year since 2017 is not a renewal year for me, but rest assured I will be forced to come up with some such nonsense to keep HR happy. (I wonder if "continue breathing" will be accepted.)
Anyhoo...against my avoidance of resolutions, I made one for 2017. There was a witness, too. Namely the Mimi who holds accountability up there with kitchen soap (that's a story to tell...later). In other words, accountability is pretty high on her list of standards.
As many of you might recall, the last 3 months of 2016 wound up being rather trying when the Mimi kissed a sidewalk in NYC and me, being the medical/rehabilitation expert, moved all sorts of dirt to get her to the airport, on the plane, to Texas, off the plane, into rehab, out of rehab, to home, to work, etc. In the midst of that, she has been remodeling her home, so almost every weekend and occasionally during the week, including holidays, I have been called to take care of something (shopping, groceries, move clothes downstairs, move clothes upstairs, rearrange furniture, install new dishwasher, etc). (The last was completed with the assistance of mi espouso.) (Ok, he did the work, I helped.)
Point is--I've been working my tail off. So when the Mimi graciously attempts to thank me for my efforts above and beyond the call of daughterly duty, I informed her that my goal for 2017 was to be a slacker.
Can you tell where this is going? Yeah.
That resolution was quickly reduced to ash when I received a text message (group including mi espouso, baby brudder, and Myrtle the Younger) from the Mimi. The issue: a dead mouse stinking up her temporary bedroom from a ceiling vent. I (trying to maintain slacker-hood) dutifully continued working. Baby brudder responded with an "insert cat" comment and things went downhill from there. Several texts later, the Mimi again requested assistance with carcass removal and claimed to be able to see said body. Considering extraction would require climbing a stepladder and the Mimi is gravity-challenged at this time, someone had to do something. Guess who that someone was. (Come on, take a wild guess!)
So Myrtle the Younger and I make the hour and a half trek to the Mimi's abode, where we proceeded to investigate said vent, where I could see what looked like a fluffy turd. (I'm not trying to be gross, kids, just calling it like I see it.) So I proceed to remove the vent and what to our wondering eyes did appear? A long, turd-shaped dust bunny.
Yes, folks, I drove a total of 3 hours to remove a dust bunny from an AC vent.
Our best conclusion was that some critter left this world in the rough vicinity of the duct, but not was not kind enough to crawl into an easily accessible location before dying.
Fortunately, the smell had dissipated before our arrival and the Mimi thanked us properly with a nice meal. I shall resume my attempt at slacking now. DO NOT contact me for dust bunny removal. Ever.