What a washout. I accomplished nothing today, not even clearing the kitchen table for my editing. Can’t even pretend to have tried…
I’m sick. I’ve got a cold, and all I’ve done today is blow my nose, read On Writing, and take a couple naps. Both of which Hope woke me from. Grr.
If I weren’t a single parent, I’d be in bed. I’d have been in bed, all day, and maybe I wouldn’t be feeling so damned rotten now. Even if I were, I’d have help with the Santa thing. I wouldn’t be sitting here anticipating another shitty three hours or more before I can go to bed.
Hope wants to catch Santa. Towards that end, during one of my naps she got hold of every piece of candy she could find, and ate it. Not enough to make her sick, but certainly enough the word ‘ricochet’ is appropriate. She’ll crash eventually, of course. In the meantime…sigh.
I still have wrapping to do. Every year I promise myself I won’t wait for the last minute. It’s Christmas Eve I miss Chris the most. We should be playing Santa and getting a little buzzed and going to bed to make merry. Leaving the wrapping till Christmas Eve only reinforces the loneliness. Can’t get lost in a book, can’t just go to bed…but what could I do? I couldn’t shop till I got paid, and after yesterday’s marathons, it just wasn’t possible to stay up much past Hope.
Ah well. In sixteen hours, all the BS will be over. I’m mad I didn’t feel up to a Christmas Eve service, though. I really was looking forward to it. And I’ve decided I need to take Hope to church. It’s not fair that she’s growing up completely without it.
Hell. I don’t have any cash on me for our Jack-in-the-Box tradition. Maybe I should just let it go. I think it only makes us more sad. (Our first Christmas with Hope was a difficult one. She was two months old, we were living in a falling-down guest house with no heat, and no money. Someone gave us $10. We took it to Jack-in-the-Box, the only restaurant we could find that was open, and had a hot delicious breakfast in a warm place. Since then the three of us, and now the two of us, have gone to Jack-in-the-Box for breakfast every Christmas morning once the presents are unwrapped. It used to be a good time to remember what Christmas is REALLY about, and look back at how far we’d come. Now it just seems like a good chance to make both of us miserable.)
Maybe I’ll let it fall to Hope. Let’s see if she remembers and wants to go.