I’m still listening to Christmas music alone in my apartment. Blue, green, red, pink, and orange lights artlessly illuminate dark evergreen needles. A snowy white owl perches against the tree’s top most point, ready to take flight amid gold and copper cardboard stars.
By this time I’m usually avoiding yet eagerly preparing to pack away the decorations. Rudolph’s fellow misfits and Doctor Who’s TARDIS blue beaded garland seem wasteful and extravagant. My precisely constructed wrapping paper banner grows childish when just two days before it made me smile. By this time I am not usually planning on spending a day at a local artist bazaar before realizing they’re all closed.
This year I didn’t have any time off before the holiday. Other than the occasional boxes of edible treats delivered to the office there wasn’t any sign of Christmas. For over eight hours every day I’d forget December’s purpose. Sometimes at home or while driving I’d turn on carols to put me in the spirit. It’s a very different way of listening than my present mood.
Relaxed and still with a couple days left before I have to turn on an alarm clock I’m very much enjoying this holiday. In an oddly telling characterization I’m equally excited to clean out the fridge and pantry as I am to sleep past 8 am or eat my mom’s white chocolate cranberry biscotti for breakfast.
I just happened to start my winter cleaning with the bottle of Irish Whiskey I bought 4 days ago for Irish Coffee on Christmas morning. You gotta start somewhere. Plus, I suspect this homemade Irish Cream will go equally well with scrubbing shelves or watching holiday specials.
Merry Christmas everyone!