So 2025 is here — and I still don’t know whether “auld acquaintance” should be forgotten, remembered, or liked on Facebook. And what is a “lang syne” anyway?

It doesn’t matter much, since Dede and I don’t stay up to greet the New Year anymore. When I was young, Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians graced New Year’s Eve with a snappy instrumental version of “Auld Lang Syne.” Some try to sing along, but often find they are slurring the words, whether tipsy or not.

In case you wondered, (probably not, but here goes) Robert Burns’ original lyrics, as found on Wikipedia, were a real handful. His version ended like this:

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!

and gie’s a hand o’ thine!

And we’ll tak’ a right gude-willie waught,

for auld lang syne.

Gude-willie waught? When the words coming from your mouth sound like that, it’s time to shut it down.

Cross|Word

Flipart

Typeshift

SpellTower

Really Bad Chess

Guy and Co. were replaced by the Times Square blowout hosted by eternally youthful (until dead) Dick Clark. I imagine now they shoot Beyonce into space or a giant mechanical gorilla carries a singing Taylor Swift to the top of the Empire State Building. If so, I missed it the other night.

But we did not lack excitement. Oddly, someone in West Lebanon (I think) set off loud fireworks around 1:30 a.m. on First Night. I startled awake, thinking a car had blown up, or a coal furnace exploded. Who still has a coal furnace?

But more to the point, what sort of person sets off New Year’s fireworks not at midnight, but at 1:30? If you are going to be annoying, at least be punctual.

It’s one thing after another during the holidays. Before Christmas I put out my vintage plastic Santa who employs one of the few remaining incandescent bulbs on Earth. For some reason, perhaps old wiring, he hates LEDs.

So I went to Home Depot to find a new incandescent among the long shelves of energy saving LED options, and a young woman helped me search. Her wireless gadget confirmed they exist, even if hidden away on a bottom shelf.

With much intense staring and reading of small print, we found a two-pack and Christmas was saved.

But not so fast. A day later, I spied a single incandescent at Wal-Mart for less than half the cost. I seized it, and the day, I thought.

But wait, there’s more. The next day the internet informed me that an auto parts store on the Miracle Mile carried an even cheaper incandescent, apparently used in shop lights. A youngish cashier was in the dark about the product, but as I stood at the counter I looked up a parts number on my phone and he found it. This is how we shop now.

Fortunately, we live in town and pass these places regularly so my quest to save maybe six bucks via shopping and returning wasn’t as moronic as it might seem at first glance. At second glance, however, my fixation does seem a bit much.

My wife is the Chief Financial Officer, handling big-picture stuff like paying bills with laudable timeliness. This allows me to concentrate on smaller financial matters that capture my attention and spirit of adventure.

So the year-end news that Lebanon was doubling the price of its purple landfill bags on Jan. 1 was right up my alley. The former $1 15-gallon bags are now $2. The mega 30-gallon bags have doubled to $4.

As recycling enthusiasts, we generally use one bag a week, so this scheme has been a bargain, and I suppose it will continue to be. We live about three miles from the dump, still enjoy running errands together, and my Honda Fit is not too snooty to carry us and rotten spinach on our rounds.

Nevertheless, when I read online that people were fretting about the increase, I of course started to fret as well. To delay inflationary pressures (for my sake and that of the nation) I made overland expeditions to three places to purchase bags before the price hike. You might say I’ve invested in garbage futures.

One last note: Often, around this time, I’ve made predictions about the year ahead. Just now, in a way that I’ve never encountered, I am simply unable to. I have no idea — NO IDEA — whether this will be the year of Team Trump, Team Musk, Team Bannon, Team Greenland, Team Tariffs, Team Deportations or Team Who Picks the Crops?

The only certainty is uncertainty, but at least I’ve got Plastic Santa and the Purple Landfill Bags squared away. For what it’s worth, that would make a great band name. Happy 2025!

Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.