Declining Christmas

It is, I find, rather difficult to maintain a blog without online access at home. During the evening hours, when I am most likely to blather nonsensically about myself, I have to leave my house and go somewhere to get online. Because it is winter, it is all I can do to force myself out of the house to walk the Beasties. To go from Beastie walking to home to back out in the cold is entirely contrary to my nature and inclination. Hence, sporadic posting.

As to why I am not online at home, I refer you to my earlier discussion involving yard work, with an added note about the idjits at Charter Communications. In order to get online at home, the cable company thinks they need to run a new wire. Rather, the doofus who drove the van to my house claims that. In order for a new wire to be run, I have to declare a Tree Armageddon. Frankly, I'm just too lazy. Further, I think the aforementioned doofus was just making things up.

Winter is not my time of year. The shortness of the days combined with the monotone grayness of the trees and ground and sky inspire me to nothing but sleep. Additionally, I hate the cold. It pains me and makes me feel fragile. Blah blah blah, ick, kvetch.

In addition, this year I am declining Christmas. Most years, I am a reasonably festive sort. I get a tree. I throw a party. I wrap some presents. I make a Merry Christmousse. This year? No. Broke, disinterested, and worn out from the year, I just can’t bring myself to participate. Except for an obligatory visit to my grandmother’s on the high holy day itself, I’m doing my part to pretend the entire holiday is simply . . . not. My plan is to eat bad-for-me food and experience a good old-fashioned solo drunk on Christmas Eve, and then get up and visit my grandma on Christmas before going to work that night (yes, I have to work on Christmas Night. One of the many perks of being a pink-collar slavey).