Jimmy Fallon is probably not my future husband

I love, love, love made-for-TV Christmas movies. They are all exactly the same, and I can't get enough of them. This year, one such movie starred Candace Cameron as the daughter of a real-estate mogul who goes to check out a small-town skiing resort they had purchased with plans to turn it into a party destination rather than the family-friendly, log-cabin haven it is now. She naturally goes cross-country skiing with the son of the people selling the resort, who happens to be very attractive and nice and teaches her all about how family is important and blah blah blah. This one was actually not the greatest. The point is, at one point Candace Cameron is talking to a little girl while at a buffet line. The little girl tells her about the Feast of St. Thomas, during which if an unmarried woman steps into bed over a stool, throws her shoes at the door and sleeps with her head at the foot of the bed, she'll dream of her husband-to-be.

I happened to be at home in Ohio when I watched this movie, and the Feast of St. Thomas happened to be Dec. 21st, which was the next night. So, why not? I did not step into bed over a stool (What does that even mean? Use a stool to get into bed? Place a stool next to the bed and then physically step OVER it?) and I'd been in my PJs for hours, so I had to go track down my shoes in order to throw them from my bed. I put my head at the foot of the bed, and I fell asleep.

That night, I had a dream about Jimmy Fallon.

Jimmy Fallon is 15 years older than me. Also, he is married. So, probably not in the cards.

But tonight is an important night for Jimmy Fallon, and tomorrow is an important day for me.

Just as I decided that I needed to accept living in this town, I nearly found a way out. I've spent the last month in limbo, which really means I've spent the last month doing nothing but watching Netflix while eating fettuccine alfredo, waiting for one day to pass into the next. Today, that option got delayed. Not outright denied, not yet, but pushed back for at least four months. While I wouldn't mind a repeat viewing of Friday Night Lights, I really can't spend the next four months sitting in my room eating heavy cream sauce.

I have begun working on a list of goals - a week, two weeks, a month, six months - and will continue working on it for the next few days. Some are easy and speak to how bad I've been over the past month. (Change the sheets!) Some are procedural, things I was putting off in hopes I wouldn't have to do them. (Register the car in NYC. Sign up for employer health insurance.) I don't know what the rest are. But they're important too.

Tonight, the 17th will pass into the 18th. At 12:01, Jimmy Fallon will host his first Tonight Show. It's in New York City, something the town and the show are celebrating.

I'll be watching.