Whine

I have cramps, I feel entitled to whine, so get over it.

Christmas.

I love Christmas. It is by far my favorite holiday, and the only time of year that I expect to be wonderful and magical without fail every year. Why I expect this, I do not know....certainly my history has been filled with enough crappy Christmas's (Box of Socks, Bad Teenage Eliza No Biscuit) to have killed that sense of hope in me. However, I guess that eternal spirit of optimism does continue to live on, because every year around my birthday/Thanksgiving, I start to get excited. All my senses hum. I whip out money and throw it in the air (retail) with great abandon, searching endlessly for the one thing that will make the sisters, the family, Mr. Manners happy. Because everyone wants to be happy at Christmas, right? I listen to Christmas music whenever no one is around. I dance with my dogs. I break out all my ornaments, and usually decorate outside with tasteful lights and garlands (although this year....I just don't feel like it).

Now this Christmas is an Eliza's family Christmas. Just us chickens (and Mr. Manners). Well, it started out that way - now it has turned into: Lil Sis arrives Thursday mid day; parents are stopping at their friends house on the way down, and not arriving until Saturday. Mid Sis arrives sometime on the weekend - she'd better, or she won't get her interview suit as her Christmas present! And now, even though this is not what I wanted, I have graciously (although I'm complaining somewhat publicly about this, I don't really want to hear about it, thank you, family members) agreed to have everyone over for Christmas Eve Snacks and Drinks. That's about twenty folks in my house. Did I mention I'm also working Christmas Eve? I don't care if my parents bring the corgi's - I like them, and they keep Maddy entertained. I don't care that my house will virtually be a hotel - I'm quite capable of ignoring everyone, and everyone that needs to has a key. I don't even mind footing the bill for feeding the masses and entertaining the masses...I rather enjoy that sense of preparation masochism. I don't even mind the cleaning - I know that the Sis's can be pressed into helping me with that, and the cooking is fine and dandy as well.

But a fucking thank you would be nice.

Love ya!