This Christmas was going to be different.
The past four Christmases have been brutal and bleak. Shortly before Christmas 2008, I lost my job. A month later, the boyfriend did too. By Christmas 2009, we had lost the house and were living in exile, shellshocked. The next two Christmases were barren as well. We decorated, of course, if for no other reason than to try and cheer ourselves up, but there was nothing under the tree.
But this Christmas was going to be different. We were going to be able to celebrate the way God intended, with an orgy of overspending on needless gifts. When all was said and done it looked like there was about $1000 in the bank just waiting to be gifted. Of course, there wouldn't be a tree to put it under - this house isn't big enough for a tree, not even a pygmy one. But tree or no, there would be gifts.
Then came the unexpected car repairs.
Followed by the unexpected trip to the vet.
Final bill? $1100.
Oh well. Better luck next year.
Actually, it's OK. If nothing else the past four years have made us appreciate the season the way it was originally intended to be, or so one would assume. Our dire financial straits had already stripped it of all the commercialism and consumerism and forced us to just focus on the joy and good will, since it was all we could afford. And being far from home really made us appreciate the bonds of family, no matter how dysfunctional and infuriating they can be at times.
So tomorrow morning we'll pack up the dogs and pick up my folks and head on down to my sister's house to spend it with her and her extended family and enjoy the day. Plus, we'll get to watch my sister be hectored by her mother-in-law about how she doesn't know how to cook, which is always fun. Ah, the Christmas traditions, they never get old.
Merry Christmas.
