Wasn't it October just a minute ago? Thanksgiving blew through like a breeze and now, all of a sudden, it's December.
Sure, there were warning signs. The kind that go up right after Halloween. First it's decorations. Then, it's Christmas music. Slowly at first, starting with the light stuff - music that doesn't hit you over the head. Charlie Brown stuff. The Grinch. Softly, slowly building. By the end of the month it'll be so ubiquitous, you'll want to choke. But it's only the First so not yet.
Hubby got the Christmas decorations from the garage first thing this morning. Wasting no time, he clearly hasn't grasped the concept of procrastination. Neither has the weather. My phone tells me to expect snow as early as Monday.
I see two redeeming qualities for the month of December. First, the days will get longer soon enough. Second, we get an extra second on the 31st. (I figure that's good for an extra long kiss on New Year's Eve.)
Also, Holidailies. Without it, I find way too many reasons not to write. In November, the month of NaNoWriMo, I even used housework as an avoidance technique. How desperate does one have to get?
Turning the page of my calendar to December, I will try to look for the positives to stave off the inevitable stress that accompanies the month: A quick road trip this weekend. Symphony tickets the next. A visit with the grandbabies after that. Some holiday. Then a boozier holiday.
I told Hubby not to get me anything this year. I tell him that every year but somehow he can't resist. I'll give him a kiss and tell him I love it. I'll use it for a few weeks to demonstrate my joy then quietly relegate whatever-it-is to a corner of my closet, my Island of Misfit Toys.
I'm really not as grumpy as I seem but I will be by the 31st. Duck and cover. You might not come out unscathed this time.