Done. Over. Fini. I really need to enclose a letter to myself as I tape the Christmas trim boxes for storage. Something along the lines of “don’t bother.” Christmas 2014 has come. And gone. It was not a ‘white Christmas’ here. Which only adds to my crankiness with the season. I don’t know how folks in warmer climates manage Santa and all the fake pine, red & green shit, and glittery snowflakes when its 90 degrees and sunny outside.
I need a white Christmas. Which is making me chuckle a bit right now as I just finished myself off watching some Afro-haired young, rail thin twenty-something pound some chub daddy ass. It was entertaining as I sipped Earl Grey like Lady Mary at Downton Abbey. But I digress.
Christmas sucked. I sort of figured it would as I had last year as a template. And the year before that. Depression sucks the joy out of everything. There is a mindset of ‘why bother’ that is at the core of just about every process. Oh, don’t misunderstand; by outward appearances it was another grand tree and trimmings. I can’t say I plugged it in every night though; I liked punishing the residents across the way that populate a major hi-rise here in the neighborhood. As if “See; yes…I have a gorgeous tree lit tonight for your viewing pleasure” and then leave it dark three nights out of seven. Meh. Who is punishing who?
I ate a filet mignon, shrimp cocktail, and a massive baked potato heaped with sour cream Christmas eve. In bed. Watching a rerun with knowledge of how it would all end.
Most of the Christmas trim is packed; that was this weekend’s project. Though the tree is still up. While Christmas has come and gone there’s something optimistic about the bare tree skirt waiting for gifts that won’t come. The waiting; the glittering branches of winged birds; jeweled ornaments, and all that shine. Such delicious sadness.