Is it really Christmas Eve?
I find that really hard to believe.
As a child I would count the days until Christmas Eve. Other than my birthday, it was probably the most anticipated day of the year. We usually went to my grandma's house for dinner. Then I remember making sure everything was perfect for Santa - enough cookies, stockings were in the right spot, etc. My brother and I would get to open one present before going to bed, and then we would pretend to go to sleep. I was too anxious for the next morning. Christmas Eve had its own aura.

I have yet to feel that aura. Maybe it's because I'm older and realize that it is just another day except we get stuff, or maybe it's due to the trillion different stresses I've had to think about and deal with.

It's kind of like that song, Where Are You Christmas? that the little girl sings in the Grinch movie. I never understood what she meant by that until right now.

Merry Christmas.

I've come to realize that instead of labeling a day as "bad" by taking a single event (or series of events) and contributing it (or them) to a day from hell, I have resorted to the opposite - a day is considered "good" when a good event (or series of events) occurs. Ergo, 99.9% of all days now are not good days. They are "Eh" days.

Ex. Mom: "How was your day?"
Me: "Eh."

More later maybe.

I cannot get excited for Christmas.
I cannot do satire.
I cannot read and comprehend Twain.
I cannot feel any emotion other than tired (and that is not an emotion, technically, so it's not like it actually counts).
Wadafxup.