I rang in 2008 by getting a solid 12 hours of sleep.
After laughing when the neighbors asked if I was going to stay up for midnight, saying "of course, it's a big Scottish tradition!" I failed to pace myself on the bevvies, had three whiskeys, and then went to sleep on the living room floor at about 10pm. I vaguely remember making the decision to nap on the floor rather than going the extra three meters to my bed, because that way Matt would see me and know I'd decided to go to sleep, rather than wondering where I'd got to. Though his first thought was probably not that I'd made a conscious choice so much as, you know, collapsed. Heh. Logic and whiskey evidently don't coexist in one brain.
I did celebrate midnight Eastern Standard time, 9pm here, which is when all the kids got to blow their noisemakers and then go to bed. Our neighbor had set up a miniature Time Square ball, a football wrapped in fairy lights, on a flagpole, and he lowered it as we all counted down. Very cute. It's good to know I can at least keep up with all the under-8 party animals.