Whiny. That’s what I am on the eve of Christmas Eve. And I’m whiny because I’m trying to be festive and no one will cooperate. Usually there’s no forced festivity around here because I traditionally hold an annual Christmas Eve party that consumes us with Christmas and excitement and WORK and fun. I’m not having it this year, so I need festive.
And Whit’s sick and that’s not festive. It’s boring. I get it, he’s really sick. Yesterday the doctor told him if it was 1920 he’d be dead. But could I get the guy to raise a glass and toast the power of antibiotics? No. He’s now a teetotaler who goes to bed at 8:00 and can only drink Gatorade. Bo-ring.
So I’ve been baking. Like I am in some Pillsbury bake-off and I can win a million dollars if I can produce a record volume of homemade cookies. I brought in a tray of cookies for the school secretaries that was so enormous it guarantees my children will never actually get a tardy slip, they’ll just be waved on through for the rest of elementary school. I have delivered plates of cookies to my neighbors every single day. The kids are so sick of the gingerbread men with creative expressions that they’ve banned them from their lunchboxes. I actually had a thought that I needed to find a charity to which I could donate all my cookies but then I ate a lot of them and started to get depressed about feeling fat. So baking didn’t work.
Then, I tried to recreate the way Whit and I like to sit in front of the Christmas tree and have a glass of wine and talk about our days. But then I started to feel slightly nervous. I was some crazy lady sitting in the dark, drinking and talking to herself. Thank God I don’t have a cat or that just would have been cliché.
Then I tried shopping but the mall irritated me because everyone was frowny and rushed and definitely not festive. And the sales were all sneaky, like "90% off *select* styles" but those select styles were all ugly and unrealistically weird sizes. Even the Santa looked like he wanted to ditch the snotty kids on his lap and hit a bar. He was definitely not feeling festive.
Then I tried wrapping but I’m very unhappy with my wrapping paper this year. I’m particular about my paper and usually do a big wrapping paper shopping trip but I waited too late and they only had Hanukkah paper left so all my presents are silver and blue and white and that’s not festive. (I mean, if I was celebrating Hanukkah it would be crazy festive, but I’m not.) There’s one paper I found that I liked but they were out of it and I’m trying to get Whit to drive two states over to pick some up from another store but he’s playing the "I have pneumonia, you moron" card and saying no.
Then I tried to get my brothers and sister to come over to make me laugh but my sister had an emergency appendectomy and my brother’s family all got strep and my other brother’s got "issues" so they are all damn far from festive.
Then I tried to mail out my Christmas cards but the picture, which is cute in real life, is dark and yucky and the cards look dumb so I only mailed out about 20 to people who might actually die of old age in the next 365 days and really do want to see what we all look like before they go. (If you’re not old and you get a card, no, you’re not going to die, you just slipped in. Okay?)
Then my car wouldn’t start because the battery got in a bad mood. Is a car dealership festive with its tinsel and limp Santa hats? I think not.
Bah humbug, you non-festive people. I’m going to go drink wine and talk to myself. Anyone got a cat I could borrow??
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