Dear Future Michaela:
Thankfully, I didn't quite go there last night. Yes, I drank 04 Dom Pérignon straight out of the bottle on a street somewhere while hipsters in a nearby apartment building launched fireworks off of their balcony. (Confession: I was kind of terrified I would be That Person who succumbed to a death-by-hipster-fireworks-accident.)
But there was no need to apologize to my future self. (When you eat enough pre-party enchiladas and make sure you drink water, you're pretty much good to go.) Instead, I started thinking about Past Michaela, and how that girl from five years ago had no clue what she was getting herself into. (Dear Past Michaela: Bet you never thought you'd be allergic to bread, divorced, living in the Land of Hipster Lumberjacks and training for a full Ironman! Haha! Surprise!)
So on this first day of 2014, I'm saying cheers to the unknown.
Dear Future Michaela: Roll with it, girl.