I planned out my New Year's Eve well in advance, purchasing Boston's First Night buttons prior to the thirty-first and mapping out the stops I'd make throughout the day. SML and I did a fairly good job at navigating our way to the Courthouse Silver Line stop on our way to the Museum of Contemporary Art, but a few minutes in a blizzard was all it took to send us back onto the bus.
We ended up at a movie theater, waiting out the storm, ruining my plans. My real plan of the day was to see the ice sculptures at Boston Common and Copley Square, a desire I cannot explain because if you asked I couldnt tell you a thing about the ice sculptures: Who created them, what the hell are they even are or mean.
After the movie I made SML trek through the snow with me to see the sculptures, first through the park, then to Copley Square. It was the highlight of the night, unless you count SMLs dirty glass at the Daily Grill. It was exhausting because I couldnt focus on anything until I had seen the sculptures. I wouldnt dare ask SML how much I talked about wanting to see them because it might remind him of that time I couldnt stop talking about salt water taffy, and the long drive to the Cape that followed.
Its strange to say, but I felt totally satisfied after seeing those sculptures, like Id just removed a loose eyelash from someones face. Theres probably a support group for people like me, but it scares me to think about a room full of people picking hairs off of other peoples faces.