Two and a half years since my last post. Not that things haven’t been happening since then, obviously still in a pandemic and late-stage capitalist hellscape.
Christmas 2022 came and went, and now we are in the full throes of Romjul. I’m working from home on the three days this week the office isn’t closed, which has been interesting when your fellow house-dweller is completely off and doesn’t abide by a schedule. As if I didn’t need more affirmations that building a routine is the only way my executive-dysfunctional brain can have any hope of functioning.
I had forgotten that the Year I Bought all The Wrapping Paper Crap was in 2009, and Charlie and I finally looked at each other and said, “This is it. We are getting rid of most of this shit.” We consolidated all the bows, used up most of the tags, and pitched all the flimsy paper and too-thin ribbon that tangles on the roll as soon as you try to use it. Fingers crossed that next year, we’ll plow through even more of it so we can move forward, not weighed down with my Christmas impulse-purchase.
I am not sure when the last time occurred that I ate a vegetable (maybe last week?), but I haven’t actually had a Zebra Cake in over a month. I can hear every cell in my body screaming for both salad and water.