I’m peopled out and it’s only the 9th of December. Seems year over year that the good will reprieve of Thanksgiving and gratitude wears out sooner and sooner. I haven’t stopped yet to track it, but I’m mighty tempted to do just that.
I’d like to say “what is wrong with everyone?” but it isn’t everyone, it just seems that the afflicted are louder and more visible than those who are content to remember that holidays aren’t about the bloody stuff. Mind you, I am Pagan so it was never about the stuff for me, it has just become harder and harder to get myself motivated to go anywhere that there might be people. Of late, I don’t go any farther than the grocer or the barber unless I am unable to manage it somehow online. The crazy is pandemic.
Even the ruddy fuel depot is miserable, and fuel prices are DOWN. Things that should make us cheery don’t. Things that should make us smile don’t affect a change at all. It’s like we aren’t content unless we’re unhappy. I for one don’t want to live like that. Give me an island or a sailboat and I’ll gladly do my best hermit.
For now, I think I’ll be stocking up on the things that don’t expire, like say…soup, and hiding in my cave. It’s safer there. They know me there. And, maybe just maybe I’ll get the damn book done.