In the weeks leading up to the chilly December eve, the mark of another year gone too quickly, I weighed my options: curl up under cozy blankets with my own bottle of wine and my four-legged companions, or venture out of the apartment for a few hours of eating, drinking, and being merry in a pair of tight jeans and tall heels. I mulled over each tempting choice carefully. In the end, I opted for the latter, as I knew there would still be plenty of other nights to keep to myself in the new year.
Though I accepted my invitation to Mila and Isaac’s annual New Year’s party, I anticipated that I would make a quick appearance and be home and in bed long before the ball dropped. I rapped my fist once on the door, was immediately whisked inside, and knew I was wrong. Read More