These days have been frenzied. Yesterday, I yelled at my husband for not putting Christmas lights on "right" and at my Granny for cutting off the spare bulbs, and then at my husband again (just for the sake of it) and at my Granny for (whatever that was? oh, well, I guess the "right" decorations) and then at everybody for not sympathizing with me. And then at my kids for messing at my feet. And then at them for hanging at the computer (out of my sight) all day. And then I growled at my parents-in-law for showing up too late for Christmas Eve, and (mentally) at my sister-in-law for getting back together with her boyfriend (as if it was my concern), and then at my husband again because he objected to me smoking all of the sudden, and I went to bed determined to pack my bags and move to live with my ex-boyfriend and leave kids with my husband. (Needless to say, my ex-boyfriend would be very surprised, and I'm afraid not too pleased, if I showed up at his place with my bags packed.) Today, my determination has swayed a little, but only because I got my few hours in a nearby chain restaurant, outlining an upcoming novel. Being mad really propels things forward. I guess because writing is all about hiding things and this is what I'm doing,
telling that it's all Christmas. I have always felt mistreated, abused, sore and angry at Christmas. They never love me enough at Christmas. I never give them presents good enough for Christmas. They beg off with something I really love - but just this one thing (or at least it's just this one thing I notice). Others are treated better. Others are the stars. I'm left aside. Every Christmas. I'm a teenager again, I'm a pouting child again. I'm never an adult at Christmas (only I get to yell at others as an adult, and I use this chance to full extent).
So sometimes I think I'd be better off without Christmas, just giving all the love and presents and stuff spread out during the year.
And here comes the Thursday Prompt: Without Christmas.
Feel free to be global and oh-so-religiously-convinced, and apocalyptical, and stuff, when you imagine how you'd live if you didn't have Christmas, and if you celebrate Hanukah, all the merrier.
No need to teach you (and to yell at you). You're the writers.