Not really a 30-minute entry since I'm just going to write until the bell goes for the laundry. More like a 20-minute entry. Anyways. I fell out of the habit of journaling over the past month. I've just been so focused on all the various need-to-dos for this insane month.

December sucks. So much time and energy gets focused on Christmas and expectations. I've gone insane again this year. I forgot the crushing disappointment from last year when the things I had worked so hard on making "perfect", weren't. We have a ton of presents for everyone under my sad tree. My sad, sad $20 tree.

The Christmas tree is a good example of how odd I get about Christmas. The past few years we've borrowed my Sister's Tree since she wasn't using it. This year she's living with Mr. Dorsey and he has kids, so they need the tree, obviously. I figured I'd find *my* tree this year and all would be good. Mike had finally agreed in principle that an artificial Tree is a better idea for apartment dwellers like us. It's a good year for a tree.

So what do I do? I leave it. I keep pushing it back until the inexpensive one I wanted was sold out and we're out of cash for a more expensive one. The money is gone on just-one-more gifts for everyone else. The time went on the same thing. I didn't realize what I had done until last week when I stood in the middle of the Christmas area at Zellers and hated all the trees available. I almost cried in sheer frustration.

I appear to still have a functioning imagination, though, so I decided on a solution. Not an elegant one, but a fun one. I decided to buy the cheapest tree I could find, and just drown it in lights and shiny things. It's damn tacky, but it's a tree. Next year I'll donate it somewhere so someone that can't afford the bigger fancier trees can get one, and buy the one we truly want. But this works for this year.

I think my problem is that I want to make sure that nobody feels the way I have on Christmases past -- left out, forgotten, overlooked. I don't remember specifics (and the specifics I do remember don't go online) but I remember the feeling so strong. Sitting somewhere watching people open these wonderful gifts, generous gifts, beautiful gifts with the full knowledge that there's nothing under the tree for me.

That's so against the rules, I know. But I care more about the bitter hurt that comes from that situation than I care about propriety. So I gift like a mad woman. I spent over a thousand dollars last year.

Time's up, but I just want to share something. Touching a stranger's hot pink satin thong because they can't be fucked to pay attention to how long it takes a load of laundry to dry sucks. It's called a timer and it costs a whole $1.15 at Dollarama. Invest in one and use it, you laundry room assholes.