Maybe...

Maybe he’ll lose another 25 pounds next year.

Maybe he’ll gain 50.

Maybe he’ll break a new personal record running a 5K race.

Maybe he’ll break his leg.

Maybe his family members will get through a whole year without being hospitalized.

Maybe his blind cat will regain some sight.

Maybe his demented uncle will regain some faculties.

Maybe he’ll start looking at houses again.

Maybe he’ll even buy one.

Maybe he’ll get a raise.

Maybe he’ll get a promotion.

Maybe he’ll take more risks.

Maybe he’ll do something stupid.

Maybe he’ll ask that girl out.

Maybe he’ll spend some time in a hospital.

Maybe he’ll finally get that mole removed.

Maybe he’ll stop wasting time playing internet games.

Maybe he’ll go to more concerts.

Maybe he’ll go to more casinos.

Maybe he’ll get on a plane again.

Maybe he’ll have a plan again.

Maybe he’ll shave his head.

Maybe he’ll grow his hair out.

Maybe he’ll grow a goatee again.

Maybe his investments will finally pay off.

Maybe he’ll roll over that one Roth IRA into that stock his mother’s cousin recommended.

Maybe he’ll make more new friends.

Maybe he’ll spend more time with old ones.

Maybe he’ll meet more famous people.

Maybe he’ll become famous.

Maybe he’ll become infamous.

Maybe he’ll get a new camera.

Maybe he’ll stop blogging.

Maybe he’ll blog more.

Maybe “blog” is an acceptable verb.

Maybe he’ll finally and irreversibly start referring to himself in the third person.

Maybe he’ll reveal his secret identity to you.

Maybe you know what’s going to happen to MCF in 2010.

Because I don’t.

Maybe...