I know. I said I was taking a mini-break between Christmas and New Year. I lied. Obviously.
Jingle bells, I hate elves, jingle all the way!
There are a good many things I hate about Christmas. I chronicled just a few of them the other day. Paper party hats, driving sloooooowly past the Christmas lights again, and the fellatio angel are just a few of them.
On the other
candy cane hand, there are a good many things I love about Christmas. Paper party hats, stealing people’s Christmas lights driving sloooooowly past the Christmas lights again, and the fellatio angel are just a few of them. Add carols, festive cheer and Tourettes Santa, and we have ourselves a list.
And we can add, to the list of Stuff Lori Loves About Christmas, a very potent, powerful phrase that I use a lot around any festive season…
“It’s just this time of year.”
Because there is a phrase that pretty much excuses everything.
“Oh, my, the children are so feral today.”
“Oh, I know. It’s just that time of year.”
“We are just so freaking broke at the moment”.
Big sigh. “Oh, yes. Us too. It’s just that time of year”.
I am, by nature, the type of person who will take a good excuse and flog it till it is panting and exhausted and begging for someone to finally give me a good kick up the bum and get my act into gear.
Chronic procrastination is a hobby of mine.
Christmas makes that even easier. Because it’s just that time of year. The house is filthy, but that’s OK, because it’s just that time of year. I have three baskets of unfolded washing sitting on the dining room table, but that’s OK too. Because it’s just that time of year. I am freaking exhausted, but that’s understandable- you see, it’s just that time of year.
I haven’t shaved my legs in a month. that’s actually quite a normal occurrence (Hmmmmm. I really better watch myself. Not so sexy, FormSpring admirer?). But at the moment, I have an excuse. Because it’s just that time of year.
The Man may have fed the one-year old Bump a glass of green cordial today. Also A-OK. Kinda. Sorta. Filling a small child with gratuitous amounts of sugar is certainly not something I’d normally condone.
But it’s just that time of year.
Which is absolutely freaking brilliant.
The truly ridiculous part of all of this is that I’m not even that busy. I get organised early, and then sit back, smug. Wrapped in my smugness. Like a present that’s been wrapped two weeks before Christmas, that’s how smug I am.
And after that, I do.. well… nothing. Taking past disasters into account, I dare not bake. Decorations are minimal, with small children wandering around that will not only destroy said decorations, but quite possibly choke on them.
And still, I am exhausted.
Because it’s just that time of year.
I figure the line is going to be good up until at least the second of January. After the second of January, it will no longer really be any particular “time of the year”. So I will have to
put on my big girl panties and get stuck into things find another good excuse.
At least until Easter. Unfortunately, there’s then a huge gap between Easter and next Christmas. And with Christmas comes birthday season in the Purple House, the heat of summer and financial scrimping. Excuses, excuses, excuses. The light at the end of the excruciatingly long tunnel of procrastination.
As I said- I love it.
It’s just this time of year.