As I was leaving the apartment, I ran into my neighbor. But not an ordinary one - he was dressed as Santa Claus. He was absolutely drunk, holding a Christmas tree and loudly singing something about Olivier salad.

I tried to politely pass by, but he suddenly threw a garland of lights at me and said,
"Happy New Year, my friend!"

I don't know what was scarier: the garland, the sudden Christmas tree, or the fact that my slippers were covered in snow and the kefir I'd dropped in the kitchen half an hour earlier.

And then his cat shows up - yes, he had a cat, which for some reason he dressed up in a little elf costume. The cat decided I was a danger to the world and jumped right on my head.

At that moment, my phone rings: a message from a stranger on a dating site: "Are you sure you're ready for a real New Year's?"

I stood in the middle of the entryway, covered in garland, with the cat on my head, and the neighbor's Christmas tree in my arms, and I realized one thing:
"Sometimes the wildest New Year is the best start for new stories."

And so I thought: should I write to her and tell her about this whole horror... or should she think I'm normal?"