The local man, centered in his own local activities, judges all things. On this holiday he has seen it coming. The old year drifts closer and closer -- dangerously close -- to its demise. This is known, predicted.
He remains as economical as ever, going to the store and checking out the bargains, near-bargains, and excessively marked up items in the snack aisle. Some chips are exorbitant, like in the $4.69 range. Others have a more appealing price to the local man, such as two for five bucks. He picks up one, some sort of "Restaurante" kind.
As for the salsa, it's neither marked up nor marked down. It's what it usually is when not on sale. Get a mild for Grandma, a hot for himself.
Then summer sausage of a type he hasn't seen before, Cervelat. It looks good enough to take a chance on.
As for drinks, there's a sparkling cider that the Martinette's (spelling probably off) have been making since 1868. They surely know what they're doing by now, so he picks up a bottle. It's only once a year.
Back home, I'm quite tired and don't make it to midnight. But that gave me today to dig in and work on some of this food.