I'm done with Christmas this year.
Even though I'm trying very hard to have a low-key, slackful holiday season, apparently that sort of thing is just not allowed in my family.
From morning until night in this house, there is enforced Christmas cheer. I didn't mind the first 18 hours of Christmas carols, but it's gotten to where I can't hear myself think anymore. All the baking was nice -- until I couldn't fix myself dinner because there was no counter space, the oven and microwave were in use, and I couldn't even get to the fridge.
And of course, we have the holiday arguing to go with the high-stress holiday. Yay.
Tonight, it finally got to me. I couldn't take it anymore. I knocked over a glass of cranberry juice onto the carpet and I just collapsed, bawling. It was one of those full-contact cries, with the shaking and the snot dripping from my nose and me making unfathomable noises as I gasped for air between words.
Because, you see, I was terrified that I'd spilled it onto my mother's priceless, hand-made Christmas tree skirt with the glitter and appliqué Santas.
I think my family has noticed that maybe, just maybe, their daughter doesn't love this holiday as much as they do, and needs a break from it.
I think their other clue was when I went to the refrigerator, pulled out the eggnog and sake, and started tossing back Nog-a-Sake's. (The trick is to mix them, otherwise the sake causes the eggnog to separate.)
At any rate, I'm done. I'm so fucking done with this high-stress, commercially bastardized holiday. I'm going to do a very large shot of NyQuil, and see if I can sleep until 2009.
Other than posting my Christmas poem on the 24th, Lurking Rhythmically is going offline until the New Year.
To those of you who DO celebrate this holiday, I really do wish you all a Merry Christmas, and I sincerely hope yours is better than mine. If you feel inclined to do something for me, all I ask is that you send me an email saying that you read this blog and you enjoy it.
Thank you, and goodnight.