Good Riddance 2022

I just finished getting my continuing education credits to keep up with my certification. Technically, they aren’t due until the end of June, but these things have a way of sneaking up on me, so I decided to get it done now. I guess that can be construed as a new year’s resolution. Not really, but I do want to keep on top of things better. I’ve still got a lot to learn at my job. I don’t want to fall behind on anything.

Lion is probably applauding this. I didn’t think of it in terms of home, but I’ll try. Having said that, I’m not going to give him punishment day swats today. I think he’ll get enough tomorrow during the football game. I don’t know if the opposition is good or not. So far, the games have been fairly close in score although there’s always the possibility of a blowout. His buns are hoping for a low-scoring game with no sacks on our quarterback.

Since I’m not spanking Lion tonight, that leaves time for play. I’ll set up the massage table and give 2022 a sendoff. I can’t guarantee he’ll be able to have an orgasm, or even able to get convincingly hard, but we can try. I think, since many communities ring in the new year with fireworks, Lion should ring out the old year with IcyHot. It seems fitting. Fireworks. Fiery balls. Of course, we also have some ginger in the fridge. It can set his ass hole on fire. Decisions, decisions. I don’t know which he’d like less. Actually, I think I do. Ginger isn’t quite as combustible as IcyHot. Of course I’ll use IcyHot! You would too.

We’re having steak for dinner. We’ll have the last of our Lambrusco either with dinner or at midnight. As long as we’ve been together, I only remember going out for New Year’s Eve once or twice. I think we were at the symphony five or six years ago. Other than that, we are a stay-at-home couple. We watch the ball drop in Times Square. It’s delayed for the west coast, but we watched even when we were in New York. It’s usually too cold and definitely too crowded to actually go to Times Square. My son did it once. More power to him. Nope, we’ll be snuggled in our toasty bed when the clock strikes twelve.