The boring resolution would have been to floss every day.
Instead, I resolved to just ask for what I want. Because in doing so — even before that shared midnight — someone behind the bar put the ball drop on one of the ten screens, the rest still broadcasting hockey highlights.
I’ll probably still try for the whole daily flossing thing. One for me, one for the universe. A quid-pro-quo of the mystical power of the cocktail napkin upon which wishes for the years are inscribed.
