It’s a long holiday, isn’t it, Christmas and New Year?
We have such busy lives and then, after the build up to Christmas day and the tumult of writing cards and buying and wrapping presents; of planning and executing menus; of discovering that you have only two wineglasses and remedying this, suddenly, with a bump it’s all over.
We have had only four days away this year (not counting my trips to India which can be, I admit, a bit of respite from the daily race against time that is my life.) Oh I know I don’t actually have a career anymore, but I still live by my watch because my time still belongs to other people. And dogs. Perhaps it’s because I feel I have to fill my day in order to justify my existence. I don’t know that either.
But at Christmas the volunteering rota changes; there’s no choir and the singing lessons have reached a hiatus whilst I await the result of my Diploma – Shhh! I don’t want to talk about it. Everyone is home so I don’t have to walk the dogs every day and there is so much leftover food that it’s not necessary to cook beyond a short trip in the direction of the toaster.
What does one do to relax? Well, I’ve gone to bed late for me for the last few nights, and I’ve still got this lingering cold – as has the OH, who is ALWAYS ill the moment he stops work – so that’s meant a late start in the morning. And today I spent hours doing my normal Sunday ironing.
The Boywonder, home from Canada after sitting end of term exams until late on Tuesday evening, seems bereft and shellshocked though perhaps he’ll calm down and learn to relax in the next day or two. Some of it is jet lag, I’m sure.
I feel I should be doing something constructive: I have a crocheted throw to finish and a book to read but I’m whileing away the days on Twitter or FB or just listening to the radio. It feels wrong. I feel I should be busy.
I’ve heard that Christmas and holidays are the tensest time in family relationships and I can believe this. Perhaps it’s partly because we’ve lost the ability to relax and chill and talk and breathe and think together without some sound or picture coming at us through space. Or partly because we’re normally too busy with ordinary normal life to sit and think about who we are and how we relate to people and when we are forced to stop we face a reminder of who we and they actually are. Does this make sense? I’m probably rambling again.
It’s like when you’ve been on holiday for a week or so and, though it’s lovely, you long to get back home and stuck into the laundry until it’s done.
I needed a rest though, some down time. And what I really need to now is sleep so I’ll wish you all goodnight.