Come
I'll show every ghost in me
Take my pain into you
Not this Friday. Not next Friday but the Friday after that. That's all the time you have left because Santa is coming on that Friday whether we are ready or not.
Someone replenished my liquor cabinet. It's now a cabinet plus a small corner of the counter itself and I don't know if I'm really happy, suspicious or disappointed. Jesus. I'll be a pickled princess by New Years and maybe it is for the best. It's easier to control and procure than the horse tranquilizers they usually find for me, and everyone knows the weight limits and upper maximums and in the event that I change my mind it's never too late to hand it off or pour it out.
There's a brandy and two whiskeys, two vodkas, three rums, a tiny kahlua for Christmas-day coffee, or maybe Christmas eve and boxing day too, five bottles of mead and two red wines.
And a twelve-pack of hard lemonade already in the fridge because I'm not the only drinker, of course.
There are two gifts left to leave the house. Ruth's boyfriend's present and then a gift that must be mailed express to California for one of Henry's dearest friends and he always waits until the last minute and so he is chipping away at making a thing and hopefully it will be ready by Friday and I will pay thirty bucks so his recipient can open it on Christmas and hopefully not after.
I don't have the turkeys (the market ALREADY CALLED US. WOW. SUCH SERVICE. MANY APPRECIATE but I don't know how many pounds of turkey I want. Yet. Soon. Today or tomorrow we will do the math. PJ does it, I check it.) or the dessert (who needs dessert? These guys. That's who. I'll pour another glass of wine, they will put back seven pounds of stuffing and four pounds of turkey (each) and then want something sweet to finish it off.
Sometimes that's me.
Ha.
God. Starset's Everglow is playing and it's a weak song for the first three minutes and ten seconds and then it becomes something absolutely incredible and I've had it on repeat in my head all day now so far. Hope it stays. I wish I could play a soft melody on the piano followed by twenty-seconds of dirty-vocal screaming because I doubt there is anything better out there musically than this, right now.
I am feeling better, thank you. Thank you to new and old readers alike who reach out to say hello whether I can respond or not. Sometimes I don't respond to every message (too many, too hard) but I see every word, eventually and I saw them last evening and I really appreciate it. I can be so deliriously envious of your ability to be pulled together and I can try to do the same and that's all I can promise. Holidays, logistics and overreaching schedules are easy for me, not so easy is keeping my emotions in check, getting any sleep at all and watching out for the holes that swallow me up so easily because I run without looking. Always have, probably always will.
Much to their dismay.