Listen, guys, it’s time for the holidays and all that. Hanukkah started last night, Kwanzaa…well, I’m not racist, but I don’t know when that is, exactly. Still, I’m sure it’s great. Christmas is some time next week? If you can’t tell, I’m not too thrilled about the holidays. In fact, aside from Thanksgiving, WAKE ME UP WHEN IT’S OVER, is my attitude.
I think my disinterest stems from the past few years when I’ve not gone home for Christmas. Now it just seems like any other day. In fact, last Christmas Eve, I was home alone, watching television and eating an entire cake. An entire cake. You read it right. An entire cake. It was kind of depressing because it made me look around and think, “Hm. This is not how I ever imagined anything.” But, the next day, I celebrated with a bunch of good friends and good food, so it all worked out.
Still. I don’t have the type of personality that allows me to even think about buying a tree or listening to Christmas music (I will tell anyone who will listen that Hanson’s album “Snowed In” is genuinely great). I’m just not together enough to do these things. I did, for the first time ever, make a gingerbread house this year. Vince and I threw it together one night and it was more challenging than I anticipated. The Sweet Tarts on the top of the roof are clearly hiding something.
The good thing about this year is that I get to go home for a few days. Because I’m living under the poverty line, I’ll only be able to afford something small for my niece and nephews, and maybe a razor for my little brother’s fourteen-year-old mustachio. Just kidding, Tyler. I like your mustachio. This kind of stinks, because, I love buying presents. It makes me feel nice when I find something that I know is perfect for a loved one. Alas, this year, all adults in my life will have to settle for the gift of my presence. A presence present.