Monday, December 15, 2014

In which the Monster finally blinks

           Which philosopher was it who said, "if stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss stares back into you"?  Prolly Nietzsche or one those fun dour ones.  I get it's mostly a poetic way to say, " stop dwelling on the negative there, Debbie Downer."  But damn, it sure feels like we've been staring into the abyss alllll weekend long.  Sigh. Feisty Pants is actually doing much better.  Better enough that they are discussing paroling her soon.  Which means she is also now better enough to complain 24/7 about being tortured and imprisoned, umm, er,  I mean hospitalized.

          So, hopefully, we will be home in time to have a somewhat organized Christmas. And find the cat, who has escaped and is sulking under our back porch because the only two humans he likes haven't been home since last week. Maybe actually finish a cookie. Or wrap a gift. My in-laws will be doing the holiday after the holiday, thank heavens, so I might actually be prepared by then. (This is, at least, the lie I am telling myself.) My folks are used to me and will just roll their eyes and think, "We'd knew she be all hurry up and never done".  Everyone else will have to roll with it if we show up in dirty sweats with half made gifts,  looking like refugees from  some very smelly disaster.  

           I used to try to still be as close as possible  to whatever passes for normal when Feisty Pants was younger.  Foolish of me.  I was tired and over stressed and just made myself ( and everyone else around me) miserable when I never met an impossible illusion of what I thought was organization.  Now, eff it.  We try to show up.  On time. And be somewhat reasonably presentable. Preferably with no weird biological substances in our hair .  Doubly preferably with no one screaming. Triply preferably with none of the screaming being aimed at me. Anything else is a fun goal but we make no promises. And anyone who does not understand is just gonna have to deal with it and/or suck it. I don't care which.  This year my Christmas gift is having her home and anything else is simply details.  So if we are too messy, too loud, too chaotic, too casual, just consider us the embodiment of Christmas present.  The children who accompanied that spirit were poor homeless waifs so we already look the part.

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