I always say that I don't have time to be sick, so Fate decided to give me a cold on the night of Christmas eve that would suck the life out of me on the first official day of my vacation. Since I'm no longer a kid, Christmas day is actually a fair amount of work with the cleaning and cooking and dividing of leftovers and sorting presents and driving to Richmond and back in one day. This is the first year that we literally ran out of time and my family had to exchange gifts tonight instead of on Christmas evening since we didn't start eating Christmas dinner until 9:30pm. My oldest brother got the flu on Christmas eve as well (I suppose to give me perspective on my measly cold in that I could at least keep food down if a bit uninspired to eat it). So we all just made the best of it.
I don't mean that to sound like we didn't all have a good time. I got great presents from Rich's family and everyone was reasonably pleasant with no meltdowns. My aunt Sissy came to eat dinner with us for Christmas night and was unflappable in the face of a ridiculously late dinnertime as long as she had wine, appetizers and good company to keep her busy. The Puddin' and I have a beautiful Christmas tree lit up and surrounded by well thought out gifts both given and received with love. I blame the snot in my head for my sense of ennui.
I think this is one of the few times that writing isn't making me feel better. It's not so much that I'm unhappy; I think I'm just cranky and sickly. Again, I blame the snot. I must admit, though, that getting up this morning and finding evidence of Christmas kitty mischief did amuse me amidst the stuffy head and scratchy throat.