I’m sitting on my mom’s couch eating straight out of a pint of Jeni’s Whiskey and Pecans ice cream, and it’s Christmas. After shuffling through at least two dozen movies on HBO I can’t find anything to watch. Most of my meals over the past day and a half have consisted of entirely too much sugar, with the exception of biscuits and gravy this morning, and the Italian subs from Christmas Eve. But, I’m fairly certain I ate at least four chocolate chip cookies yesterday, a Kit-Kat, and zucchini bread.
I understand now why Clark Griswold lost it in the classic holiday film National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. We are all, especially during this time of year, one surprise squirrel in a Christmas tree cut down from the yard away from a full on breakdown. As you saw too many of the random people you allowed to stay on your Facebook friends list from high school say over the past few weeks, “I don’t know what it is, but this year doesn’t feel like Christmas.” I’ve barely been able to relax and forget my woes for the stretch of a few days over the past nearly two years, let alone savor the general cheer the holidays are supposed to bring. Instead, I crammed all of my shopping into a week, helped my mom power clean her house before my grandparents walked through the front door with plenty of food in tow, and I’m generally contemplating how to redefine my own happiness.
I told my mom and her boyfriend this afternoon I planned on taking a page out of the Grinch’s playbook (Jim Carrey’s iconic interpretation) and wallowing in self-pity the rest of the day. For me, this simply means moping in the living room under a comfy blanket, having some form of food in front of me at all times, and reading until I lose track of the day. Don’t feel bad for me because this isn’t really a bad deal. I have no plans to change out of my pajamas and there are two extremely cuddly dogs within a few feet of me. I only wish it wasn’t raining in Ohio at the end of December.
This is the time of year everyone starts buzzing about what they want to change, new habits they’d really like to keep this time, and all the other “new year, new me” nonsense. I will keep it simple, with the hope of next year being better than this one. Maybe I shouldn’t call it nonsense, because I can recognize the great effort it takes to make a change and make it stick. Let me just be bitter for a moment about the things I’m lacking and the changes I’m struggling to find the strength to make. This whole “being human” thing can be intolerably messy sometimes.
Despite the downright depressing events those of us who are mostly sane are still dealing with, nothing can beat the joy of my family listening to songs they first heard decades ago and dancing in the living room. Or the fact no one felt the need to rush out of the door this year right after the plates from dinner were washed off and deposited into the kitchen sink. Maybe next year a room full of people won’t cause my chest to clench and I can sit in a dark movie theater without feeling guilty. Maybe next year.
The Rummy Writer 