Him: Did you have a nice Christmas?
Me: Yeeeeeaaaahhhhhh (lots of subtext in that answer). You?
Him: Yeah, but I think it's a sign I'm getting older that my favorite part is just getting the day off work.
Me: No, the sign you're getting older is when you're grateful to go back.
Don't get me wrong, this year's Christmas was pure holiday bliss. The family and I were bombarded with such an overwhelming deluge of yuletide joy that my bones are literally aching from it. The boys' faces were beaming with holiday cheer 90% of the time. It was the sweetest thing to witness. The other 10% of the time their faces were contorted in pure holiday anguish. This was, more often then not, a hilarious thing to witness. The latter was brought on by things like having to share new toys, being denied a cookie, or going to bed. Consequently harsh restrictions like these were rarely enforced. "Hey, it's Christmas" we'd say, and pour another glass of wine.
So now I'm back at my desk, slumped in my chair, with heavy eye-lids like a prize fighter in his final round. I dragged my haggard ass out of bed and made my way in here a day early, which earned me a few "ambitious points" from my colleagues, though I think those points might be cancelled out by the fact that I haven't picked up a razor or successfully completed a load of laundry in six days. I look homeless, but a quick look around the office tells me that this is, in fact, "the look" today, so that's a comfort.
Ha! I just noticed that the only other people here today have kids my age. Every one of them. That's absolutely fantastic.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
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