Requisite Christmas Bitching
Every year since I was 15 or so, it has taken an extra 12 to 24 hours for me to get excited about the holidays. It's thirteen days before Christmas and I'm still waiting to be really amped for it. Right now the house is about 1/4 cleaned and 1/2 decorated. 99% of the gift shopping is done, 0% of the grocery shopping is done. Nothing is wrapped. Mike and I both have head colds and right now he's passed out on top of the bed surrounded by a tangle of bedding and piles of unwashed laundry all over the floor. I'm trying to find the motivation to finish picking up the living room so we can vacuum and dust. And right now, I just don't give a shit. All I want to do is sit on the couch and watch "Wicker Man."
It's a wonderment to me that anyone over thirty actually enjoys the holidays. And I wonder if having kids makes the general malaise and overwhelming stress better or worse.
I'm just feeling ever so Charlie Brown-y right now. "I just don't understand Christmas. I know I should feel happy, but I just end up feeling let down."
Damn skippy, Chuck. Damn skippy.
It's a wonderment to me that anyone over thirty actually enjoys the holidays. And I wonder if having kids makes the general malaise and overwhelming stress better or worse.
I'm just feeling ever so Charlie Brown-y right now. "I just don't understand Christmas. I know I should feel happy, but I just end up feeling let down."
Damn skippy, Chuck. Damn skippy.