I Hate the Holidays
Russian Violets | I hate the holidays
And it's not even Thanksgiving yet. Ironically, of course, I used to really love the time from November 1 until my birthday when my mother was alive, but lately, I just loathe it. I feel my blood pressure rise just thinking about it. To be sure, much of this is family- and money-related: the family thing is always such a nightmare because no one really wants to get together anyway (Father-thing makes it quite clear that he'd rather be doing something else -- anything else), and Christmas has gotten so bleedin' expensive....
Add this to the fact that it's getting colder outside, and my lovely house, as you may recall, is hell to heat. The thermostat is set at a toasty 60 degrees, and even with that, I paid ridiculous bills last year. This year, I've promised myself that I will not, not, not pay an $800 heating bill -- even if this means that I run around in long underwear and multiple layers drinking tea and wearing mittens. ...
I had hoped to polish off a dissertation chapter over the break, but I'm not sure that this will be possible. It's looking increasingly like I'll end up working extra shifts at Jobs # 2, 3, and 4 -- just go keep my head above water.