The dogs and cats of of-fice-turned-remote workers aside, there is not a soul on Earth who isn't champing at the bit to cross off the last day on their 2020 desk calendar, tear it to shreds, shove it in a firework and shoot it into the sky at midnight on December 31. Starting fresh. What a concept. Carrying baggage built up over the last 365 days, and the second the clock ticks into the New Year-poof-it disappears. Never before has such an absurdity sounded more absurd than heading into 2021, which by all indicators will be the end of the pandemic. But not on January 1.
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