Every year I say I’ll do it…I’ll find time to relax and enjoy Christmas. Breathe in the days like a slow drag of endorphins, swirling around in my head, producing a silly grin on my face. Sit by the tree and watch the lights dance on the ornaments that only come out once a year. Go out to the kitchen, my ultra-clean kitchen, and begin baking cookies for which I have to Google which store in the free world sells the ingredients. (Because I can’t just make chocolate chip or molasses:) Then mosey into the dining room and begin wrapping presents while watching black and white movies. All the while supervising my tots making a gingerbread village. Ahh, the Norman Rockwell of it all!
But alas, every year it never seems to happen quite like I want it. This year for example I’ve been working my butt off. A virus hit my workplace and I’ve had to go in double time, the only cookies I make come from a roll in a messy kitchen, and I’ve managed to wrap only a few gifts, because Amazon is still shipping the others. Gingerbread village? Ha! Try ugly lined paper and crayons to help pass their time until the Jolly ol’Saint Nick shows with toys that will interest them all of a day and a half (if I’m lucky). The future days don’t seem to have any more hope for a slow down.
There’s always time to dream for next year, I suppose.