Dec 21, 2019: Impending

I’ve reached that part of December that I hate.

The bit that’s a few days before Christmas and you need to get shit done, but you keep thinking of more stuff to do, or start thinking that the stuff you have to do is going to take longer than the days you have to do it it.

Not to mention you have a mental list of what needs defrosting and when in order to put food on the table.

But you’re not at that point yet because you haven’t even got the table downstairs yet. Or washed the tablecloths or…


I know it will be fine, though. Because actually there’s not that much stuff to do. But it just seems like there is. Because I wrote it in a list. And now that list exists and I haven’t looked at the list since I wrote it, although I have been doing things from it.

But then that isn’t to say I don’t love all the stuff that needs to be done – the cleaning, the prepping, the icing of cakes that I should have done earlier in the month but the other day went “oh shit, ice the cake!” because we’d popped them out of the way and I’d entirely forgotten about their existence.

I’m looking forward to doing it all. It’s part of the tradition of Christmas. Especially now mum comes over. Stuff has to be done, and mothers have to be accommodated. Beds need to have cheesy Christmas duvet sets applied to them. Rooms need sprucing up for the season, washing needs to be done because no washing will be done over the festive times.

There’s just stuff. And it feels like a lot. And it isn’t really a lot.

Especially as Carole has actually gained a couple of days this year – normally she’s working up until Christmas Eve, but this year she’s already finished for the year. But then I feel bad about leaving stuff for her to do because I have to go to work.

I can’t just leave everything to her. I need to muck in. But then I’m not here because I have to go to work at times which are inconvenient from a getting jobs done standpoint. And it just feels bitty and that there’s loads to do and….


But it’ll be fine. This happens every year. And every year it’s golden.

This is the first year for a good while that I’m not medicating my brain though…