December 24, 2014. 1:34 a.m. So tired. Obviously down with a virus. Wondering and making excuses but here it is. Feels like the flu and it’s still around since the 20th. As I keep saying, “It’d be a lot worse, I’m pretty sure, if I wasn’t getting the flu shot.” I believe it even if it may not be true. Tired. Impatient. Disinterested. Sick.
I was insane this afternoon doing some housework to tidy up the place for our Christmas Eve party. Fortunately, States was up the hill and around doing and getting for the party so I can scream and blaspheme all I want.
Every little thing is an aggravation and you just bellow it out at the vacuum cleaner. Any stupid, aggravating mistake you make or something isn’t cooperating and it’s bloody murder. Then you sigh mightily and get on with it because you’re British.
But it’s tough slogging. You keep going and manage to wrap your presents, an astounding feat of staying power. It’s just that, knowing you Nana, you expect your gift to be wrapped. I’m not gonna mess with that and maybe get myself killed.
So we’re down to the last few precious hours til the birth of the baby Jesus two thousand and fourteen years ago. Right off the top, you know, it doesn’t get much more ridiculous than this. Nana, I’m so tired. So tired of Christmas. Xmess! Jesu Christo!
That’s a lot of Gs, but that’s how I’m feeling. I’m so tired.
10:34 a.m. Christmas lights look good around here. Tree solid. Presents a-building under. Funny how just looking at that reminds you of when you were a kid. That’s when Chrismas was special, cheaper, and much less of a hassle. Somebody else was taking care of everything. So tired.
So that’s it. Hope you can make it to the party, Nana. Hope I don’t catch you lying on the side of the road somewhere, eyes like two pee-holes in the snow. That would be wrong. You can make it in your nightgown. It’ll be fine. Moving on.
Here’s a picture of me at an early Christmas Eve party. It was getting to the end of a good year and I was just turning 21. I mean 41. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, Nana, but I, like everyone else, am effected by the passage of time. Very strange effect. And you wonder. You do. Where’s it all lead?
No response to the question needed. We know where it leads. It leads to the Christmas Eve party. Get through that and you’re golden, sweet, awesome as well as privileged. Tonight will be the 21st in a row.
See soon Nana. Huggies and teddy bears.
Could you run that by me again?