Christmas is over, that’s one special occasion down and one to go. New Years here I come.
Now this makes it sound like I don’t like the holidays, and that’s where you’d be wrong. I like them just fine, don’t necessarily love the season but certainly don’t dislike or hate it. I think it’s more the buildup and subsequent beehive of activity has leaves me now with a somewhat anti-climactic sense of blah.
Grey and overcast days contribute to the malaise, as does the withdrawl from sugar and high fat foods, and the desire to binge on the goodies and liquid Christmas cheer. Look at me, I’m so hard done by.
It’s time now for the homesick, comfy clothes, the routine that signifies back to normal or the return to days without real purpose other than perpetual ‘do what you want’. After all I’m retired now and my days are essentially filled with finding what interests me most on any particular day and doing it. That could be anything from spending time on the computer, writing, shovelling, or doing laundry. Such a range, such a life.