Christmas Day

Not much left before Christmas Day is finally over. And I'm trying not to be a spoilsport. I know many people love this day, they get to meet their relatives and friends whom they haven't seen for a long time, possibly since the last Christmas Day. Not me. And no I do not like Scrooge or copying his style for that matter. But my Christmas Day is probably as lifeless as a soft toy lying on a child's bed. Or perhaps that soft toy would have more action than me. I have everybody and nobody. I know what it is to live on your own, and I have survived quite some Christmas Days on my own. It's just another day. And a very boring day for me. It also is a day which makes me sad. Of course I could look and think of others less fortunate than myself, but we almost never do that. We see the grass on the other side, which is always greener. No I am far from being envious, it's just that I wish I could have a happy Christmas Day where I'm so rushed off my feet that I don't have time to think. Because I do enough thinking as it is. And enough of talking to myself too. Well I at least talk to my cats sometimes, but I couldn't describe it as a very intense kind of conversation. It would have been at least happier had Santa come, not through my chimney (I don't have one), but I guess he could make it through my front door. It's big enough for me, so Santa wouldn't have any problem. And I wouldn't ask him for anything. Well, yes, I would. I would ask him for some serenity, the kind where I could stay motionless yet still feel happy. I wouldn't ask for over the moon happiness, I tried that, it didn't work, because it never happened. My mum just called to check on her daughter, who is me, because she thinks I was drunk during lunch, I have told her time and time again, that this daughter of hers does not drink, but she either has a hearing problem, or a screwed up head. Probably both. How could I not appear drunk when I was eating lunch only minutes after I'd just got up? Or perhaps, like all mums, she knows something's not quite good, I suck at hiding things like these. How can I say, yes mum, please lay off, because I hate Christmas Day and Santa forgot to get me the IVF, or the required paperwork for the thing that is called 'love another child'? Or mum please stop the nagging because I'm pissed off seeing that a whole lot of people are twisting the truth? Or else, mum lay off again, because you can never understand me as a woman seeing the stork got you two bundles of joy in one? I try to talk sometimes, but it depends if the person you're talking to wants to listen. So I give up and just not talk. Perhaps I'm missing those little faces terribly. The holidays seem to be stretching like a million miles in front of me, they are getting in the way. It's just one hour of Christmas Day left. I've survived the 35th. Christmas Day of my life.

Graduating to Designer

What do people do on Christmas Day apart from eating a lot? I suppose they go from one relative to another, or perhaps they make an effort to meet all at the same place this once a year. Cool. Except that not all of us have large families, or extended families. I cannot remember what we did as kids, perhaps because it's been so long, and also perhaps I was never alone, since I had this twin tagging along with me. We used to love the presents which looked big, size was an issue. The bigger the present, the more the fun. No cousins, no other kids to play with, it was just me and my boy. But it was ok. Now, everything's changed. I would never find fault with a tiny present; tiny as in size. Nor with a present which comes in the form of a greeting card with cash stuffed inside it. I still prefer the actual presents though. But if someone has been too busy, then I'm ok with that, I'll take presents in the Euro denomination, no problem, and no questions asked. But a lot has changed. I have changed, and my twin has changed. We have graduated from Playmobil to Cavalli, Chanel, Cartier, and Versace. And I also cannot find any fault with Dior. Our presents have shrunk in size, but not in cost. And we have grown in size, and probably not very much in the mental stakes. We love designer, and I'm not very sure that that's a grown-up thing to do, but we all have our weaknesses. My mum, for instance, wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a Rolex and a watch off the Monti. My dad also isn't very finicky on labels. So we cannot have inherited the gene. And I cannot see it anywhere all through the family. It's just us. We do not even live under the same roof anymore, although that in itself is perhaps a blessing. But what I secretly never mention, although I know it's present, is this inherent sibling love which would be very hard to beat. That is why i will forever love my twin and his choices no matter what choice. And I hope he does the same.

Not a single word?

Ok so that's all of yesterday's evening wear rolling around in the washing machine. I just hope they'll come out safe, but there was no drycleaning-only tag, so I'm hoping for the best.

A strange things happened yesterday while we were having the early breakfast at about 25 kilometres away from home sweet home. There was one table housing one couple. Nothing strange about that, so were we, a couple on our own. It's a good thing we never tire of each other because we'd probably have drifted apart a very long time ago now. So, back to the couple, a man, and a woman, presumably husband and wife. They almost ate all the breakfast buffet for one. Secondly they never said a single word to each other. Admittedly, perhaps they didn't have the time for that, seeing they were so intent on scoffing the whole place down. But not a word? And then, the wife gets out a magazine and proceeds to read it on her own? Something's wrong there. Have dined all by myself plenty of times, but being a sole diner makes it forgivable to read while food is getting ready. Being a couple, the only couple seated at their table? And of all days, on Christmas Eve? That's not so nice. And although I kept battling with my stomach to keep its contents down, we were still talking non stop. Not them. And they didn't appear to be at loggerheads with each other either. They weren't that young either, but is it possible to have used up all your words by the time you're 50? That's a scary thought. It was like watching the inevitable husband-and-wife-in-bed joke. You get the husband watching TV, the wife is bored, so the talk turns to, honey do you love me? To which the husband grunts a yes. Next, honey would you find someone else if I died? To which the husband cleverly answers in the negative. And so on and so forth. Everybody's seen that scenario somewhere, and it is accepted, it is also accepted as funny and hilarious. Perhaps they should upgrade that scene to a couple dining on the same table who never say a single word to each other. Then it wouldn't be funny anymore, but downright startling.

The Eve and D-Day

It is finally Christmas Day, and I am not too pleased about it. In a week, the lights will be coming down with the trees, and I never like it. Christmas Day is one day when everything becomes boring. Especially when I haven;t had a good Christmas Eve like last night. I guess I should have stayed in, but decided to make an effort, for my sake, and for the Mister's sake, so we proceeded to cross the island from South to Extreme North just to be able to have an early Christmas breakfast in style. Yeah right. I was sick until we got there, but still decided to brave it out. The I was terribly, horribly, sick on the way back, and I don't think the Mister appreciated it very much. Of course he said all the right words, did all the right things, but I suspect cleaning a car of whatever my guts decided to throw out at 5 in the morning wasn't very nice. And I didn't even drink. Anybody who saw me clearing my gut contents out in the middle of roads must have thought, Ah ok, serves her right for going heavy on the booze. That is how it looked, but that wasn't how it actually happened. I only drank a small glass of orange juice, not really something to call the cops about. What a flipping mess. Well come Christmas Day, I have woken up with all the sickness gone but with the lethargy of someone who has doubled his dose of hypnotics. I also notice that I haven't had any Christmas presents, the wrapped up kind. I got a whole lot of presents in the Euro denomination, so I shouldn't complain. But it is because people think I do not appreciate gifts, is it because they think they don't know my tastes, or is it because they think I am very difficult to please? I just don't know, but I have missed tearing off Christmas wrappers this year. Well I guess I shouldn't grumble, because money talks, although my money never stays with me long enough to learn the alphabet in phonetics, let alone string a sentence. Or perhaps my money has learning difficulties but not expressive difficulties. Whatever it is, I am just thankful that I decided to give my fur coat a miss yesterday night. That would have been impossible to stick in the washing machine.