After work today, I had to stop at the grocery store to figure out something for dinner (note, please, that the "figure out" part of the equation hadn't happened, because I had absolutely no idea what to do for dinner, and Andy's working late). I heard a commercial for the annual production of A Christmas Carol at our local theater, and instead of thinking, "I should see how much tickets are! I've always wanted to go see that," I found myself thinking, "Damn, who has time to see a three-hour play between now and Christmas?!" That's when I realized I was somewhat overwhelmed with my holiday season.
We do have a lot going on. I just got back from four days out of town. We are watching my parents' pets while they're out of town, starting tomorrow and lasting through Sunday. I have to knit one-and-one-quarter hats and half a sweater in twelve days. We have invitations to several holiday parties this weekend. I haven't even thought about sending out cards. My sister and her husband are coming into town on the 22nd (RIGHT, KID?) and staying with us. And on top of all of that, we're giving unconventional Christmas presents - baskets of our homemade preserves and jams and jellies and stuff - which were a fuckton of work and cost probably slightly more per person than the usual gifts we exchange, but I worry that we're going to look like cheap weirdos or something, so I'm stressing about making sure they're JUST RIGHT - like, compiling a list of recipes and ways to use the stuff in each fucking jar - before I can relax about it.
So I got to the grocery store, and instead of figuring out a real meal, I got makings to make myself a kick-ass cheese plate. And I stopped next door at the liquor store and got a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. And I made myself a super fancy, carefully presented cheese plate, which I ate at the kitchen table with a real napkin while I read the L.L. Bean holiday catalog. Because I needed to settle the fuck down.
I think it helped. I feel a little better, and I only had one glass of wine.