Two-thousand ten is just days away, and I'm feeling reluctant about moving forward into the last year of this decade. First of all, saying Twenty-Ten just sounds weird. My mom pointed out that we didn't say One Thousand, Nine Hundred Eighty when talking about the Nineteen-Eighties. I'm not adapting very well. At least most of my transactions are online, and I won't be spending three months writing 2009 2010 on checks. I will, however, be typing 2101 a lot. Welcome to the 22nd Century everyone! Ironically, I have no problem pronouncing that as twenty-one-oh-one.

I remember feeling a surge of hope and anticipation at the turn of the year when I was younger. Now, at the ripe old age of 37, there is more trepidation. Not because I fear the future - time just seems to fly by without pause these days. I see another year curled up in the den, and I'm standing outside with a long stick, trying to decide whether or not to poke at it.