So tomorrow, I’m taking the day off work. Huzzah. It was originally intended to be a day to get through all those pesky starting-at-a-new-school things out of the way, like getting a student card, and all that, but once that was taken care of, it’s degenerated into a shopping trip downtown with my sister.

I’m looking forward to it. This December has thus far been an exercise in stress management – but not the working-under-a-deadline kind of stress, but the more vague, less tolerable kind. Christmas Eve is my last day at the City, and it marks a stressful day in and of itself. At least I’ll get a good week an a half off from then until January 4. That day is standing out like a sore thumb waiting to happen. It’s going to be exciting, exhilarating, but terrifying (like bungee jumping) starting back at school. Unlike bungee jumping, which is simply closing your eyes and leaping, I have to keep at this. It’s not just one day, it’s eight frakking months.

And I need to find time to drive up to Whistler this weekend.


I finally understand how Christmas can be migraine-inducing for so many people. I’ve always found this time of year stressful enough, but still joyous, with happy moments spent retreading old traditions with my family, shopping (which I don’t mind as long as it’s for someone else), and watching cheesy movies guilt-free. I’m living for those moments. Watching White Christmas last night with my parents and sister was great – not to mention watching Christmas Vacation last week – and the roommates and I are trying to find a night to watch Love Actually. I’m praying for a miracle for the VCR to start working again so I can crack open my old VHS copy of It’s a Wonderful Life. (Maybe now that Blueray is well and truly here, I will finally buy it on DVD and then only be one technological advancement behind.)

I told a friend today, that when there’s this much being juggled, something’s gotta fall. Unfortunately, so far, it’s been my writing and my blogging. Which sucks, as those are the things I actually like to do. Maybe I’ll get a chance to catch up after Christmas Eve. Let’s hope my neuroses don’t kill me before them.

(In a totally unrelated note, is it just me, or do you really think that Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye’s characters (Bob Wallace and Phil Davis) were totally a couple before Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen split them up? I’m just saying, it’s the fifties, and they’re in show business, and maybe they need to keep up appearances by marrying off…? They are surrounded by tons of young, beautiful women all the time, they’re in their forties (Danny) and fifties (Bing)… If a lot of their dialogue were given to a man and a woman (this IS 1954), you would totally get the impression they were a couple. Phil keeps using the I-saved-your-life-in-the-war guilt-trip, but I think Bob does whatever he wants because he wuvs him. Hm….. It’s totally just me, isn’t it?)