New Year's Resolute

According to the oh-so-reliable British press (motto: "never wrong for long" – or is that just Sky TV I'm talking about?), four out of five Britons will have abandoned their new year's resolutions by today.

Well, I haven't got the cash to pay the Home Office approximately a thousand pounds for a passport (really all that's standing between me and swearing allegiance to the Queen, or whatever it is you do), so I'm not sure I can count myself as the one in five British who hasn't drowned in the tide of good intentions. But... today marks two weeks off the diet Coke (and every other artificially sweetened carbonated beverage). I think I once hit 60 days several years ago, but for the moment, my goal is six weeks. According to my trusty Evian 2-liter bottle – I have been drinking at least one of these a day – the water in the body completely renews every six weeks. Does this mean if I carry on I'll have the skin of a supermodel in another four weeks? One can dream.

Gratitude list (really struggling with this): 1. Dark chocolate with dried cherries and almonds from my American stash. 2. Aimee Mann (yay for time to clean and for the time to rediscover my old CDs) 3. That I am no longer BN2's girlfriend and though an email from him today irritated me no end, at least I didn't have to spend the day and night apologizing for my so-called misdeeds. (I'd written a friendly note, dealing with logistics but also sending him a link to an article that might be useful. He wrote back: "Do whatever you think is far. Your detailed replies about finances and logistics, and your reluctance to share or acknowledge anything of an emotional nature make me feel pretty low and inconsequential." I mean, WTF? I deliberately used a friendly tone so as to avoid this sort of crap.