Done With Writing About Christmas

That’s that. I’ve had enough. I don’t know what broke my spirit about the topic, but I’m just tired of it. It was fun at first and it no longer is.

Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that recently I got let go of my job. Let me clear in saying that me losing my job around the holidays is no where near the same as a parent losing their job and being made to chose between food or presents.

Still though, it sucks. It sucked so much that I felt the need to drink myself stupid after they let me go. As you already know, hitting the bottle was the completely responsible and correct response to the predicament. It was such a good idea that I managed not only to hit the bottle but also the floor on several occasions.

I woke up the next morning (actually several times before the morning now that I think of it) running to the porcelean God to pay my respects. He didn’t seem so pleased with my sacrifice, but to be honest neither was I (I hadn’t eaten anything all day before I started consuming barley and wheat). So disheartned I would go lay shaking in my bed before doing my best to praise him again.

The point of me telling this story is that I missed two days of writing about Christmas in my “25 Days of Christmas” series. You would probably think that I could easily write two 300 word essays about Christmas fairly quickly and you’d be right. I could. But I didn’t. I fell behind and didn’t feel like catching back up, even though I could easily catch up and no one would notice I had missed a day. Seriously, who reads this thing anyway?

So no more Christmas talk. Or at least, no more planned Christmas musings (I may still need to bring up the holiday if I get that ugly sweater I so badly want).

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