I’ve got holiday burnout.
I think my enthusiasm tank was running low after Georgia’s surgery, which I haven’t written much about. There were complications. She’s fine. Mostly.
Yesterday we had our “official” Christmas dinner. We did it early. I am working the Christmas holiday this year, which means I work 12 hours on Christmas Eve, and 12 hours on the night of Christmas Day. And that’s really okay. It’s my turn, and I’m fortunate, being in healthcare, that I only work every third Christmas. Anyway, Special Man and CC came for dinner and movies. I had a puzzle for the kids. Rabies kitten the kids had named it, for the whipped cream froth on the kitten’s mouth (from drinking hot chocolate, while wearing a Santa hat, of course).
It really was peaceful. Low key. Nobody had to entertain anyone.
I am working on my own peace. I’m starting to feel like the crotchety old lady who is always yelling at the youngsters to “get off her lawn!” Everyone kind of annoys me. It’s not a pleasant state to be in. Friends, family, strangers. I want them all to go away;to go live their small lives away from mine. People are loud, and stupid. They say stupid things and make stupid choices with their stupid faces.
So do I, I suppose.
This will pass. I’m being nice to myself. I’m managing expectations for a quiet low-key Christmas with the kids. Mostly though, I’ll be asleep on Christmas day.
And that’s okay.
My poly has settled into something that doesn’t feel like Poly with a capital P any more. It’s just life. It just IS. It’s a good place to be.