So this was the first Christmas that I haven’t spent at home with my parents and brother in Indiana. I expected to have something deep and meaningful to say about MY ANGST AND LONELINESS, but really, it wasn’t so bad! I got sick on Christmas Eve-Eve, which was basically a license to lay on my couch and intermittently fall asleep watching Roseanne, which was what I was planning on doing anyway!
I’d have been more bummed, certainly, if I hadn’t gone home in September, and if my mom hadn’t come to visit for Thanksgiving, and if my high school friends hadn’t visited in July, and I’m thankful that I had those luxuries which most people who went home for Christmas probably didn’t have.
Basically I opened presents my parents shipped me and my best pals called or chatted and I ate peanut butter fudge and blew my nose a lot and thought HEY! This is something like growing up. (Disregard the fact that I still woke up at 7AM on the dot, the long-ago-agreed-to-Cook-household-minimum-required-present-opening-hour.)
