Ky is off to visit with stepsiblings this year and for the first time I find myself alone on the big day. I can hardly connect this day to actual Christmas. It's sunny, it feels like a lazy Saturday in March or April, except for the suspicious lack of traffic outside and the unfortunate lack of updating in my favorite blogs.
I don't feel sad, or celebratory, or even particularly bored. In fact I've managed to watch three Netflix movies (Blackfish - excellent! and two episodes of Luther - emotionally draining and deep, and somehow very satisfying Christmas morning viewing), and paint my kitchen cabinets, and eat Vann's waffles with whipped Jiff twice in a row in preparation of a long run I haven't gotten around to doing yet, and talk to my parents and sisters to say MC, and broadcast random MC texts to groups of friends, and play a few rounds of words with friends, and eyeball some awesome Frye harness boots on ebay (snipes in place, fingers x'd) and take umpteen million more pics of the cats to snapchat with non-clever captions for Ky.
And it's only 1:45pm!
After a huge struggle between visiting my aging parents and staying home to recover from the last semester of teaching and work, I feel like I really made the right (if guilt inducing) choice. I feel peaceful.
And I'm really looking forward to plumbing the depths of Netflix's further recommendations based on my viewing history. Bridezillas? Say yes to the dress? The manufactured fireplace with the Christmas music playing in the background? Figuring out if John Luther really IS going to be framed for a crime he didn't commit?
Peace is not overrated.