All I want is monotony, to see your smile again
My Sentiments Exactly
Well, here we are, friends. A new year. It’s day two of brand new ’22.
Hmm. How do you think it’s going so far?
Yeah, I agree. Too soon to tell.
I don’t know about you, but I’m actually pinning all my hopes on 2022.
OK, maybe not every single one of them. But a significant amount of ’em, a’ight?
Why am I so hopeful for the New Year? Because, just like all of you, I’m tired. Really, really, extremely, exhaustively tired. So, so incredibly tired of things being all… kerflooey.
Yes, it’s an actual word, but even if it wasn’t, I would use it anyway because it sounds cool.
Anyhoo, it means things are all askew. Awry. Off kilter. You know, cock-eyed. Out of line. All at once and completely wonky.
Look, I’m not going into the meaning of wonky and how it, too, is an honest-to-goodness word. If you don’t believe me, look it up. Merriam and Webster have my back on this one.
As Dusty Springfield before me, I’m just wishing and hoping and (most of all) praying. Sure, she was describing all floopy-doopy (um, NOT real words, BT dubs) googly-eyed pining after some perfect male specimen. I’m referring the next consecutive 12 months.
Dusty may have been looking for Mr. Right, but me? I’m just pining away for a bit of regular. Not in life partners, mind you. I’ve got the cream of the crop in that department already, thank you very much.
No, I’m talking about my hopes for 2022.
I’m not looking for perfect. I don’t need exquisite. I am not seeking superb. I don’t need absolute awesomeness.
Nope. Not this gal. My wish for the New Year? I just want some ordinary.
I think you’re all picking up what I’m laying down, yes?
All I long for in 2022 is a whole bunch of the mundane. You know, a good dose of drab. A dose of dull. A cup of commonplace. I am dying to get back to some run-of-the-mill monotony.
I used to enter every New Year hoping for some fabulous new adventure to await me. You know, I wanted exotic expeditions! I wanted exciting escapades! I wanted adventurous ventures, capisce?
Not anymore, my friends. Now, all I’m really hoping to find is a year full of boring, plain-old — plain.
Is it too much to ask for in seeking some semblance of, you know, ordinariness?
I mean, I was sitting in Mass the other day, just looking around at all the masked faces in every pew and thinking, “Gosh, I just want to see people’s smiles again.”
It’s so sad that the sign of peace these days means, literally just shooting the two-fingered “V” at the people around you instead of shaking their hands or, heaven forbid in 2022, embracing them.
Never in my life did I ever think I’d be sitting in church gazing out at all my fellow parishioners who, like me, look like they’re about to hold-up a bank.
So, here’s hoping for an end to you-know-what in 2022. When we can all see one another’s bright smiles once again.
— Kimerer is a columnist desperate for some hugs in 2022. Check out her blog at www.patriciakimerer.com.