I'm sitting here with a little black cat on my lap, after the cello, backpack, laptop, gym bag, L and D have all been flung (or flung themselves) into the "old" car and lumbered off down the hill in various states of mind.
Thank goodness: another Halloween has gone away. But this is merely the portal to the entire series of cataclysmic events known as the HOLIDAY SEASON. Thanksgiving is not so bad, but only because I like to cook and relatives I haven't seen in a while (a few years) will be here.
But then there's Christmas . . . and this year I am not even attempting to buy presents for my S, BIL, and nieces: gift cards for all. The past five years or so have been a general misery of buying things for them, wrapping them, boxing them up, taking them to the post office. I just cannot do it anymore. Leaving this part of the whole Christmas equation off the page will, I think, restore sanity (at least a bit).
I'm not even sure when this generalized miasma overtook me; I used to do all the things that make this time of the year special: bake cookies, make ornaments, decorate, be generally cheerful.
Hmmm. Well, there is yoga to take my mind off all of this.