So I just finished with my annual Holiday festivities. �But it�s only Christmas Eve,� you astutely protest. (You�re so good with details.) In response, I say, �Quit nitpicking, you�re not the boss of me! I�ll celebrate whenever I want to, so just GET OFF my BACK!� And then I storm into my room and slam the door behind me and turn up my stereo really loud and pout and pull out my journal and write about how no one understands me and when I run away and collapse in the street from malnutrition and exposure, and you come rushing to the hospital to see me, all teary-eyed and begging forgiveness for being so judgmental, and I still won�t speak to you because of what you did, you�re going to be really, really sorry. Incidentally, spending the last week at home has really made me feel like I�m in high school all over again.
Actually, that�s a bit of exaggeration. Being home has not really made me feel quite as juvenile as I once was. But more on the deeper, philosophical ramifications of my visit later (time permitting only, because�well, that�s the boring stuff, right?). For now, I will endeavor to explain why we had Christmas on Christmas Eve.
Actually, that�s an easy one. It�s because we�re spending Christmas Day traveling to our family reunion. (I blame cheaper air fare.) Anyway, the upshot of all this was that although I�d planned to come home a week in advance so I could really take the extra time to hang out with my friends, get to know my niece a little better, see my older brother�s new house, and do all the visiting I missed out on the last year of my life abroad (i.e., in California). Sadly, this was not to be. Instead, I ran around the city like a desperate frat pledge on a scavenger hunt, trying to get all my ducks in a row for Christmas. Interestingly, and totally in keeping with the example I have set for myself already thus far, I have yet to pack for my flight, which leaves in about, oh, twelve hours.
On Monday, Pussy Galore took me to the mall. Where we stayed for SEVEN HOURS. Actually, let me write that in a way much more evocative of the way that little excursion made me feel, and say, �I spent Se7en hours at the mall�, because it was nothing short of a gruesome horror story. Seriously, I spent less time at the Louvre. And I didn�t even have to buy anything! I just told her I�d keep her company!
Anyway, I still had little to no free time at all, and no one really seems to have grasped the notion that I�m leaving town tomorrow and won�t be back again for a while. I was still getting, �Oh, well, we should hang out next week and do lunch!� Right. Well, you�d better hurry up and buy your plane ticket, because I�m not sure how much availability they�re going to have this close to your proposed travel date.
In any event, lengthy digression aside, I did get some very cool stuff that I really wanted, and the bulk of my gifts were received with the desired reaction. (Save for my little brother, who not only already had what I gave him, but also already had what I encouraged our sister to give him, as well. I mean, hooray for being able to pick out things he obviously likes, but�damn it.) Now the trick is going to be trying to figure out how to get it all into my suitcase and bring it home. I mean, not like I got so much crap that it�s overflowing or whatever, but�as I mentioned earlier in this space, my packing for this trip was not so very thought-out, and a few of my gifts are a little cumbersome in nature. Oh well. There are worse problems to have.
In any case, for those of you who observe, I hope you guys have a Merry Christmas and, since I will likely not be able to update while at my reunion, a Happy New Year!
Someone Got Here By Searching For: synaptic misfires I�m Watching: That old Garfield cartoon Christmas special. Now that takes me back! I�m Eating: A crapload of Christmas chocolate. Woohoo!