The stress wind is stirring. We flopped our distended bellies off the couch of Thanksgiving smack into December. The e-mails about Christmas wish lists and holiday gatherings are piling up in my in box. Before I can take a deep, cleansing breath I am in a debate about green Christmas cards and writing checks for everyone under the sun.
All I know is that I’ve given up on sleeping full nights from now until January. I awaken from holiday nightmares around 3 or 4 and then I toss and turn myself into a panic attack until daylight. Weary and raccoon-eyed, I slog through the day and fall further behind the holiday stampede. I didn’t even get any shopping done this weekend–a no show for Black Friday?!
All around me the holidays approach others with grace. They sip festive martinis and look sleek in their finery due to a full six week cleanse. They watch movies, attend the Nutcracker and carol with joy. I am like the last runner in the race-huffing and puffing just trying to stay on the track–feeling like I alone am pulling Santa’s sleigh.
My house is a wreck. I am exhausted. I feel more like Ebeneezer Scrooge than a holly jolly elf. Quick, I need an infusion of the Christmas Spirit and Molly Maids. Wish me luck!