It's December 12th. Less than 2 weeks until Christmas. We had snow. We had The Holiday Spirit, in spades. And then something happened. I am not sure what exactly - I can't tell you which rotten, grinchy thing that happened to steal it all away, but the snow melted, and now the dirty, muddy, drizzly December and I are at odds.
Maybe it's the overdrawn bank account, just in time for Christmas. Maybe it's the terrible, awful head cold that makes me feel like my head is in a mailbox and all of the kids are beating on the outside. Maybe it's that I am at what feels like an insurmountable impass with MacKenzie, once again, and I don't know how to fix it. Maybe it's hearing from old friends and missing good times. Maybe it's falling asleep alone trying to pretend that the heated mattress pad and the pile of clean laundry on the bed next to me make a good substitute for "the one". Maybe it's the ever growing piles of bills with red numbers and letters from people that I didn't even know that I owed money to.
But all of these things just make me wonder if somehow fate didn't get the memo that it's The Holidays. I can patch it all together and make it work, but can't we save all of this failing for January, when it's a good time to start over anyway? And when is it gonna snow again, and feel fresh and clean? Because that's what I need. A clean start. A new snow. January. A new name. A new beginning.
And gosh darnit, I'll be dad-gummed if I am gonna let it ruin The Holidays. Me and Aspen are gonna sit down with a giant mug of Gyspy Cold Care tea and watch the Muppet Christmas Carol and enjoy every minute of it. All the dogs have their jingle bells on, the stockings are hung by the chimney with care, and nobody is gonna stop ol' St Nick.