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Ahhhh, so the dirge-y bitching is off my chest, and I feel a bit more purged of the poison. Lovely. Now the time can come on. It is two hours until my brother's side of the family comes and then another five hours before the white which enters - a narnia reference to my aunt.
I totally suck at christmas presents. This year more than most. There are people who I have to get gifts for (well no one is twisting my arms) whom I don't really know that well. I have even gone the candle route. Shameful! This is a throwback to the days when I was a free agent. I used to be a free agent you see.
(Christmas is a touchstone.)
I go blank thinking what people will want - then I end up getting some bullshit thing and passing it off. Perhaps I even have an expression on my face like "you still love me right even though I don't know how to do this properly?" Me mum rocks at the gifts and all. You do the math.
There, I feel muchos bessimo.
So much inside of me that I won't tell you.
Suffice it to say that I love you oodles.
This time I'm keeping it to myself.
Or am I?
Or do you care?
Or does it matter?
Writing off things and then starting the others.
bah.
Off to make fried okra and get beautiful!
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