We're going to make spaghetti and watch The Hobbit. I'm excited to do nothing for New Years Eve. We actually spent half the day removing Christmas from the point as I remain overwhelmed and overstimulated and all of the extra decorations and trees were sending me. I couldn't get away from it. Even outside as the gardeners put up huge pine bough wreathes on just about every door and window. They are so pretty. Someone can come and take them all down next week. I wasn't worried about the outside, just the inside. I will tell you they found big fat ribbons that looked like navy blue velvet from a distance but were waterproof so they made it through the deluge of rain we had over the past two weeks.
Our exterior colours for Christmas are multicoloured lights and then blue and dark green for everything else. Interior is traditional seventies red and white and green and gold, though I am slowly adding blue and copper to the mix over time. We've changed it up a few times. Not often because it's wasteful but it's easy to change out ribbons on the trees inside and tree toppers too. The ornaments and lights (also multicoloured on the trees and single colour otherwise) never change.
My resolutions are ready to go. Reframe stressful moments as a puzzle to solve, with prizes for successful solving. Stop touching Caleb. Stop letting Caleb touch me. Stop getting that delicious shiver of daring when Lochlan's voice breaks when he says to stop letting Caleb touch me. It's a mantra and a prayer at this point. It's a wish on a star. I can't seem to grant it or fulfill it. No one's winning any prizes over it, except for the devil himself and that's the biggest constant thread through the fabric of our Christmases.
We finished all of the turkey, stuffing and gravy. Nothing remained to freeze or make soup with. We have enough chocolate and cheese-board ingredients left to snack our way through the remainder of time itself, surprisingly and I only say that because if I make a snack board with olives, artichokes, cheese, crackers and fruit PJ takes it upon himself to eat as much as he can, as if he has never had a meal before and I didn't expect to have so much left.
The clementines. Holy Lord. We're on our seventh box. Lochlan eats at least five a day in between his pleas for me to grow up already (literally the last thing he ever wanted, freezing time was his preferred resolution to keep me small and dependent forever. What changed? Nothing, that's what) and in the end every year will be a bunch of empty promises and a half-arsed effort for us to be reasonable people instead of the historical monsters we truly are, and that's okay too.
Happy New Year. 2026 is going to be lit. Or something.