I hate Christmas. Every year I look forward to it, thinking, pathetically, that THIS year I will do better. I'll get Birdie better gifts and make the season festive for her. Funny how that never happens. Then I get to spend the day with my ever-more-estranged family (the five people that are left) after waking up Christmas morning by myself. This is a season to endure, not enjoy.
No writing yesterday except to jot down two lines of a short short I'll probably never write. Vampires, or rather a vampire this time, and I think I came up with a story to go with the lines.
The whiny story of slogging through writing my first novel.
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2 comments:
You're as bad as me lately. Is spending time with them less painful than the fallout from *not* spending time with them? Sometimes it's necessary to be a little selfish for your own health. Of course most of my family is too far away to spend time with them this time of year.
Maybe that's why we get along so well.
My family is close enough to drive to more often than I actually do.
This is the reason I say December 26th is my favorite day of the year. It's MY day.
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