Well, the apple has dropped on old ‘04, and Resolution time has rolled around again. Perhaps you made a few; perhaps you didn’t. If the prospect of making New Year’s Resolutions fills you with dread, you won’t be blamed: the ritual is rooted in grim conviction, shot through with thin threads of despair, paid for in the coin of effort and denial.

What’s to like? Self-censure is never a gas. Resolution has its rewards, but dissolution is so much more fun. And yet the truth is this: the resolutions are yours to make, and if they are stern and unforgiving, you have only yourself to blame.

As for myself, I take a happier road: my resolutions are more about permission than denial, and about giving myself a quick little pat on the back. In the past, I have resolved to eat more waffles (a success). I have resolved to take better care of my feet (another success). I have resolved to throw more sticks with my dog (depends who you ask). I’ve yet to coin a resolution that involves enchiladas and Dos Equis, but it can’t be far off.

This year I’ve resolved to sleep more. Oh yea I do love to slumber. But as a parent of preschoolers, keeping teacher’s hours and throwing in the occasional pub night, I don’t get as much sleep as I could. It’s a shame. I have no desire to be one of those kinetic geniuses who pops and sparkles on four hours a night. No, I want to be one of the lethargic ones, one of those deep sleepers who need eight hours a night and would be happy at nine or 10.

Please notice that I did not resolve to “get more sleep.” That formulation sounds so vindictive, as if there is something that I am not doing that I need to do. It sounds as if my sleep deficit is some sort of moral failure, that I’m somehow compromised by my lack of sleep.

That’s not the road I’m taking. I’m not blaming anyone here. I just want to do more of something that I enjoy: sleep. I can do this, my friends. I sense a few doubters out there — dour-minded folks who will point out that a) the Internet baseball broadcasts start again in April, b) Eli’s due for another case of the croup, and c) when do you expect to find time to clean the kitchen, anyway? — but I’m not listening. I’m not listening because my bed and pillow are just down the hall, in the next room. I’m not listening because my nightshirt is rather comfy, if I do say so myself. I’m not listening because I’m feeling a little sleepy right now, come to think of it ....Don’t bet against me.

(Jay Hardwig can be reached at smardwig@charter.com)