Christmas Eve

I like hearing about other people’s Christmas plans, because it feels very homely, and I like imagining the moments. Sure, every scenario does get twisted in my head so that everyone’s wearing a sweater, in front of a fireplace, and toasting marshmallows, no matter what it is that they do – watching American TV does that to you – but it’s still a nice image.

Like one time when I called up Bee and her mom answered the phone, saying, “oh hi, Bianca’s just laughing really hard at a joke she just told.” And I said, “Oh, is the joke funny?” and she replied, “No, but she’s laughing really hard anyway.” And then in the background I can hear Bee laughing hysterically to herself, Greg telling her how weird she is, and it was a really nice – and slightly amusing – scene to listen to.

I think it would be really cool, in the not too distant future, to wake up one morning to a Christmas with a tree that the people I’m living with worked hard on, and then open the presents, and then spend a day together just goofing off.

And, I’m pretty sure I’ve already blogged something like this last Christmas. Actually I can recall 3 pretty bad Christmases in a row (I already counted this year’s in). Hopes for a good 2009.

Last Christmas and the Christmas before, my family had invited the bunch of “family friends” over for lunch. This year everyone was busy so I thought, finally a Christmas where I’m not being yelled at by my mom to clean up and tidy up and be a slave. But instead she decided to call over another family, and they have a small son who I’d have to entertain. I don’t see how this is really helping either of us, because the son is bored by me and I am bored by him, so wouldn’t it be a better Christmas for the both of us if he and his dad went to the city or someplace fun, and I get left alone at home? Apparently, that’s a really rude thing to want, because my parents want to “have fun” with the dad. I’m pretty sure my dad hates his dad. So just my mom then.

But count on it that I’ll blog tomorrow.

De Fluffe, Out.

P.S. On the offchance I don’t, because, well I can’t imagine what…Merry Christmas.