Allyson Gillivan

For the first time in a decade, Jinny didn’t buy a new notebook to use on New Year’s Day.

This year, she decided to use a spare one that she’d bought two or five or ten years ago—she couldn’t remember. Much like matching dinnerware or solid coloured baseball caps, notebooks were something that Jinny collected for no reason other than she liked the idea of them. There were other several items, trends, and notions that Jinny liked the idea of. Yoga before bed, for example. An Instagram account dedicated to her mug collection. Baking personalised cookies for each of her friends and family members, wrapped and delivered on the eve of their birthdays. All of this sounded nice, but it was never anything that Jinny would actually do. And that wasn’t because she was someone who was all talk and no action. After all, there she was, at 7:13am, on the first day of January sitting in her kitchen just like she had declared yesterday afternoon.

You can do this! she told herself. Remember what Miss Clarke said!

It had been years since Jinny had spoken to Miss Clarke, much less seen her face. In fact, her old elementary school teacher must have been in her 50s now, possibly retired, nursing a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Back in the day, however, Miss Clarke had praised her creativity. “Jinny is a creative thinker who loves to come up with a lot of great ideas!” she had declared. Sure, this had been a blanket statement likely used for a handful of other kids in her class, but it was completely true. Jinny was a creative thinker.

Her problem was that she wasn’t a creative doer.

And that was something she was desperate to change this year—hopefully before her 31^st birthday which was now in exactly 365 days. She would turn 31 on December 31^st. Champagne on New Year’s Eve to celebrate a champagne birthday.

Yes, that was correct. Her 30^th birthday had been less than 24 hours ago—7 hours and thirteen minutes ago. And yes, that meant that the list she created of things to do “Before 30” had ventured down the same route as her “Before 25” list, “Before 21” list, and “Before 18” list. Incomplete.

That fact actually didn’t bug her too much. These lists weren’t written in blood, and neither were they tied to some financial and/or spiritual deal with the devil (a.k.a. her boss… but that was another story). There was no other reason to complete a list this year other than it being a new year. But unlike other years, she’d already completed a prime and preliminary step. Waking up early as to not waste any time. This was a good omen, she was sure.

In front of her, her not-new-sort-of-new notebook was opened to the first page. A freshly sharpened pencil lay inside the notebook’s crease. Save for the date, she hadn’t scribbled anything else.

Most years, the next line was easy enough. Jinny had shuffled through the usuals: New Years Resolutions. Goals of “Insert Year Here.” Jinny’s Epic Before 30 Bucket List. One year she’d even tried choosing a single theme with the intention of constantly reciting it like a mantra. The theme had been “endurance” and she’d endured that idea for about three weeks before deciding that a year didn’t need a theme, and that she was just going to live her life.

But this year, Jinny decided, would be different. Sure, that’s what she said every flipping year, but this year would be different. It already was. She hadn’t bought a new notebook. Instead, she’d procured one from her “Autumn Cleaning” session in October. It had a cardboard cover with a thick coil binding. There was a cute illustration of a hedgehog eating an orange on the front. There was a slight scuff on the first page, but it was new enough. Obviously not purchasing a brand new notebook would set off a different chain reaction, and breaking her tradition would in turn break her tradition of not following through with a new year’s declaration.

Jinny’s eyes flickered towards her mug. Her coffee was starting to lose its steam which meant she’d been sitting in her kitchen for far longer than she would have liked on this umpteenth first day of the rest of her life.

She returned her eyes to the date at the top of the page. The year was irrelevant. It was the “January 1st” that was the important part. As it turned out, it had also been the easiest part. Clearly, the pressure was on. This year would be the year she would complete everyone on her list, so her list had to be good.

Then, it hit her. Jinny was an expert at making lists. So what else was there to do but make a list of lists? It was genius.

She banged a fist on the table in triumph. The dark brown liquid in her mug rippled as if not one, but a whole horde of carnivorous dinosaurs were sprinting her way. She would simply make a list of lists. Then, by the end of the day, she would choose which list was the best (and the most doable) and that would be The List of this brand new year.

Jinny took an eager sip of her coffee. It was perfectly warm, not too hot. Surely this was another sign that the universe was on her side. She glanced at the clock. 7:21am. She had several hours to compile her list of lists. Basically, an entire day. What could possibly go amiss?