Well I made it; the holidays are over and I couldn’t be happier. I literally tore down my decorations and tree and shoved them back into the attic, not caring how the matter was done.
This holiday season was a bit more stressful than last year. Why? Not sure; nothing different happened this year. We did all the usual things and went all the usual places as before. But, much to horror, I’ve discovered a terrible thing about me: I’ve become a Scrooge. Not with my money—at least not with my kids anyway–but in spirit. I can’t stand the month of December. I detest it. I’d rather watch grass grow or paint peel off walls than be subjected to the season again.
Somewhere along the way, I lost my zeal for the Christmas holiday. I don’t think it’s because I have kids now (until just recently I loved the holiday). I think the true meaning behind it has gotten lost amongst the glitz.
Anyway, it’s over and done with. Bring on the new year, I say. Bring it on!
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