yuletide doubts

I just want to go home, get into my PJs, sit in front of my TV, and play Assassin's Creed. Oh, and eat fudge that I ganked from Mom's fridge. And pretend that I don't have to work tomorrow. Or the next day. Or for the next forty years of my life, since there will probably be no social security left over.

Waiting for Mom to wake up so I can put on my makeup slow enough to not have to wait around for her before it's time to go to Garrett and Monica's. Then I have to come all the way back here to get Jack and my shit. Then all the way back to Kenner, where I'm locking myself up in my tower until Comic Con. And after Comic Con I am putting myself on a strict regimen of GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. Which means waking up early, taking my pills, kicking ass at work, and forcing myself to not murder anybody, which is more of a struggle every time Monday comes around. And Mondays, believe it or not, are my easiest days.

It is hard to believe that I used to love Christmas, but of course, a great deal of people feel this way as they get older. I remember waking up on Christmas at like 5am, flying down to the 'back' of the house, and checking out all of my cool shit (until Autum came along in 1994 and halved my Christmas gettins) until my Mom had to force me into going to get ready for our long day of Christmas street hopping. We'd always end up an hour late even though we were probably up earlier then everyone else. Everybody would come to Meemaw's house, Aunt Judy and Josh and Amy and Aunt Rosemary and Uncle Warren and Meemaw and Nanny and Grandpa and Grandma Ann and Scotty and Davlyn and Uncle Scott and Papa Jay and the whole house would be full of screaming kids and arguing adults and a shit ton of food (mashed potatoes and corn and a bag of pepperoni, just for me) and we'd watch the Grinch and visit until Mom and Dad and I (and later Autum) had to go to Granny's or Uncle Bob & Aunt Cathi's and there would be more food and more presents and more card games until we finally ended up back at home, where my parents would pass out and I'd sit there and play with my new toys all night. Now, it's 'start stressing in September' and there's no Meemaw or Uncle Warren or Grandpa and Grandma Ann or Aunt Judy or any of them anymore. It's just me, Nanny, Mom, Autum, Dad, and Riley, and we either go to dinner with Dad's family or go to Garrett and Monica's. At least we have Riley. Christmas is a little more bearable when you have a kid there. I just wish he had had the chance to had the Christmases we had.

However, it doesn't mean that this Christmas was a bust. I got a Disney giftcard and a bracelet flask and some Cosmo slippers and got to eat lamb and meatballs and watch the Grinch. I'm just super stressed out, and I know that I'm going to be on my way home and most probably take the LaPlace exit out of pure habit, as I always do.

One of my physical therapists, Ben, was very kind enough to surprise me with a bottle of Skrewball (CON LIQUOR!) a really kind note, and some lottery scratchoffs yesterday. Plus, one of my patients gave me a $25 gift card to Amazon, which was very lovely, and sorely needed. There was also no end to the sweets that the patients brought us, cookies and cake and chocolates. Sometimes my job may be extremely stressful, but I gotta say, it definitely has it's benefits.

I'd better go and wake up Mom and start putting on my makeup. Merry Christmas, sixty year old me. I hope you never forget that it still has magic.

-Rae