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Broke Wife, Big City
Not until the holidays are over
By Aprill Brandon
It’s understandable, I suppose. If you look at a calendar, there is
December, looking on the surface just like any other month. Row after
row of days, each begging to be filled up with errands and tasks and
to-do lists. So I get why some people treat it just like any other
month.
But let me make this as clear as possible. Nothing is getting accomplished until after the holidays. At least on my end.
See, once December starts, you might, MIGHT, get one week at the
beginning where I kinda sorta pretend to care and half-heartedly “do”
stuff. But we have now reached a point in the season where this is no
longer real life. Nothing matters anymore except things that have a
decidedly Yuletide bent to them. I am now living in a snow globe filled
with eggnog. Go away. I’ll see you all again in January.
My dentist is harassing me about making an appointment. The vet is
wondering when I’m bringing my dog in for a check-up. My toddler wants
me to sign her up for dance classes. Our passports need renewed. Etc.
Etc.
Whateveria.
Look, I have to watch “A Christmas Story” AT LEAST five more times.
There are cookies I need to buy from the store and pass off as my own
special recipe. Not to mention, I still have to figure out which
festive liquer I’m going to slip into my coffee on Christmas morning.
I’m swamped. All this constant nagging about deadlines and paying bills
and what are we going to do about the leak in the kitchen and the kids
need to eat something besides candy canes is fa-la-la-la-la-laing on
deaf ears.
Not until the holidays are over.
Oh, what’s that? Do I hear what you hear when the car starts? That
awful grinding sound? No, sorry. I only hear what Whitney Houston
hears. A song, a song, high above the trees, with a voice big enough to
block you and the rest of reality out.
Nothing. Until. The. Holidays. Are. Over.
Sure I’ll still send my oldest kid to school (because I’m pretty sure
legally I have to). But his hygiene and preparedness are a crapshoot
this far along in the month. Was I aware I sent him to school wearing
two different shoes? And only one sock? Where is his homework? And
backpack? Why is he quoting “Die Hard?”
All things I will definitely address. After the holidays are over.
(Although please enjoy these definitely homemade cookies that are my
own special recipe).
We’re out of toothpaste? I’ll put it on your Christmas list. The
laundry needs done? What’s a few more days in those pajamas you’ve been
wearing all weekend? That gigantic tower of unread mail on my desk?
I’ll get to it. I swear. Right now, however, I have to drive around and
look at Christmas lights and then stop at a festively decorated craft
brewery where my kids will eat french fries and I will drink a beer
with 12 percent alcohol called “Yankee Swap.”
That book club I want to start? The writing group I’ve already promised
to start? That Christmas party I was thinking of hosting?
All of them can wait. UNTIL AFTER THE HOLIDAYS. I mean, “National
Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” isn’t going to watch itself while eating
three-fourths of a large pizza.
And come January 2, you can come bug me about all the stuff I’ve been
putting off. Or the 3rd, depending on how bad my New Year Eve’s
hangover is. Just get in line behind everyone else and do your best to
ignore my sobbing.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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