I read 100 books last year, more or less, but none sticks in the mid the way 2016's reading challenge did. Mostly they were forgettable books, and I dropped the TBR challenge some time in the spring. Even the rat infestation of October and November fades: was surprised at getting an email from the exterminators saying they'd be around mid-January for a checkup. Oh, right- that was three months ago, in another life. (Well, that's the effect of snow, actually: it catapults me into another universe entirely.)
The one thing different this year is that I finally lost weight, after asserting for two years that my body simply wouldn't any more. Would like to lose more, obviously, but I've gone as far as I can with no starch in the evening. Now I must restrict intake the rest of the time; or, if my knees will be cooperative, see what walking can do. I'm in the last month before cortisone shot, which is when the cortisone effects wear off, and I've been twinging these last few days, alas.
Oh, and my house is also marginally cleaner than last year. I am in love with the edging tool on the vacuum, which lets me clean crevices and lampshades and curtains without sending dust flying, and while I'm doing that I also vacuum the floors. A kind of satisfaction there, at any rate.
