Posted on Dec 27, 2015 in Features
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The worst part about New Year’s Eve is that it cuts into my routine: sleeping, for example. It’s the only time of year I am forced to stay up beyond my bedtime. By 9:00 on most winter nights I am already snug in my robe, engrossed in a good book. But on December 31st that changes. I plummet into forced frivolity, attired in my traditional green taffeta dress, attending a party with people, who on any other night, are...