Okay, check it:
I am not a big fan of "the holiday season". In fact, in my head, I tend to think of it as "the dreaded holiday season". That may seem weird. Because things related to Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years are very pleasing to me.
Can I not eat me some pumpkin and pecan pies? Why yes I can. Do I not adore the nog of egg or the wass of ail? Why yes, I do. Is wrapping a pile full of artfully selected gifts not a singular joy? Why I rather think it is.
Was I not rocking the far too early Christmas tunes on the radio this past Friday as I cooked dinner? Did I not catch myself singing a Christmas carol just this morning as I cleaned the kitchen? Yes, constant reader, and yes.
But the whole: "OMG YAY WE'RE SO HAPPY AND PRESENTS ZOMG!!!! YAY!!!!"?
No.
I hate seeing my family and all of my friends (such as they are) are busy and everyone goes out of town. This year old man Schuck and I have some Hell Raising planned though, as long as his Baby Mamma and my Baby Daddy don't renege on their baby parenting duties.
Seriously, I'm looking forward to obsessive exercise, drinking to excess, and reviewing 18 chapters of Spanish so I don't feel like a fish out of water when I get to Spanish 4 in January. Wow, vacation never sounded so good, did it?
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