IS IT A NEW YEAR YET? I didn’t attend the overall 2020 ushering-in ceremony. At about 11 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, I plopped down on my Purple Mattress and put on some Mongolian chant music, featuring Daichin Tana. It either put me in a trance or lullabied me into sleepedness. I missed the midnight liftoff of 2020. Yawn.

I’ve fostered an antipathy toward New Year’s dating back to yore-ish days of partying in the arriving year.