To the point where I volunteered to work every day possible. Thanksgiving Day, Christmas Eve, and even New Years Eve and Day. This just isn’t my favorite time of year. Seasonal depression is a thing, even if it’s not a true depression. I generally want to be left alone in the winter. I hate parties and family gatherings. I see these people only a few times a year, at best, and I have to put on my happy face and socialize. In all honesty, I just want to stay home and be left alone.
A big debate this year is if we’re going to put up a tree. In the 4 Christmases we’ve been here, we’ve put one up maybe twice. But I think we’re going to this year. I mean, we have all of these ornaments that we paid good money for. We might as well, right?
It’s going to be interesting with five cats, though. Darwin and Watson didn’t really care. Newton just liked to sit underneath it. Rosie liked to climb it. And Mr. Peepers has never seen one. It’s going to be interesting, that’s for sure.
But back to the seasonal blah-ness. For some odd reason last year I was all about Christmas. It’s odd because even aside from all of the togetherness, I’m just not into Christmas.
Some years I struggle with outright depression. Luckily this (so far) doesn’t seem to be one of those years. I’m hoping this is just seasonal apathy. I just don’t care. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy shopping for people, but I also generally think that the money that’s spent on Christmas could be better spent elsewhere – donations to charities, getting ahead on bills, beer, whatever.
Especially working with the public I’ve found that I really just want to be left alone this year.