Real life comes back tomorrow.
Ewwww. Real life is busy and gross and it has lots of responsibilities and ZERO fudge. I'm not sure how they even get away with that.
Tomorrow is for writing reports and making schedules and it has meetings and appointments and phone calls aplenty. That's not twinkly lights and wrapping paper. That's not nice at all. That's hard work. But here's the thing about Christmas: It is beautiful, but it doesn't last. And here's the thing about twinkly lights: Our electric bill is OUTRAGEOUS. Like, "time to sell one of the kids" OUTRAGEOUS. And here's the thing about vacation: it turns out I can't afford my electric bill if I don't get off my tukhus and get back to work. And here's the thing about fudge: I have become a chunky butt. A real live, lumpy, chunky butt.
So it's decided: it is about dang time for real life to come back. Probably. Even though I'm feeling very whiney about the whole idea of tomorrow.
But I am Mrs. Brightside, so I've been working myself up to getting excited about January. Because lets be honest. You really have to make some effort here. Worst. Month. Ever. January is long and it's gray and dreary and it doesn't have anything that's exciting except for some dead guys' birthdays. And also, we're pretty much all fat and poor in January thanks to stupid dumb Christmas*.
But I've decided that January, for all of it's dreary, chubby poverty, can maybe instead be a new time of celebration and excitement. December can be all about your family, but January is all about your life. Your LIFE people! January is the time when we all get together and decide what kind of humans we want to be when we grow up. January is for big dreams. For inspiration. For hope. For fresh starts, for clean slates, for do overs. January lets you reflect on the past, and project out 365 days of future. And that's not sad, or fat, or poor, or dreary. That's kind of exciting.
So these last few days of December, it seems, will be about getting back to work, and planning for the future. Making some schedules for workouts. Planning our meals. Cleaning out the house. And of course, deciding who I want to be, the year I turn 33.
Okay. That's it. It's getting late and rumor has it that tomorrow, I'm supposed to be a grown up. But before I leave, here is a picture of me that I thought would be awesome if only I had glasses. So I got some glasses. Now I'm judging you. You're welcome.
*I'm so, so sorry Christmas. I didn't mean it. Please don't leave me.
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