By: Jennifer Richardson Holt
The days after Christmas are always difficult for me. Not only am I in a stupor of all the glorious carbs and calories of the holiday season and its respectably festive gluttony, but not having to go regularly to work makes me fully unaware of what day it is. If I am being honest this out of the norm calendar has thrown me so much out of sorts that the writing of this blog snuck up on me. It seems only a few minutes ago the week was just beginning and now it is over. But it is that time of year where time moves at the speed light and at the pace of a crippled snail all at once. I am not sure how it does both of these simultaneously, but it most assuredly does. This week began and seemed like it would take ages. Then there was Christmas and though that was only midweek, the rest of the week disintegrated like the mist of breath on a cold day. I do not care for losing time like this nor do I particularly care for the time I do have being foreign and unidentifiable. But I know the easiest way to avoid this is to not have the extensive and luxurious amount of time away from work that I have in this season, and I am not prepared to give that up so I will attempt to not whine too terribly much.
Things are so abnormal right now. Just last night I accidentally stumbled upon a novel as I was getting ready to go to sleep. I was scrolling social media before dozing off, and yes I am aware that is not the ideal way to go to sleep but it is one I frequently use, and there was an ad that was just some text that I casually began reading. The plot developed rather quickly and the next thing I know I have downloaded the app and am fourteen chapters in and it is later than I have stayed up in ages. I like to think that I wouldn’t do that on a night where I had to get up and head to work. I am hoping that this is just a special case of me knowing I didn’t need to get up and be anywhere too particularly early. However, I know me and my penchant for a good story. And the fact that my daughter kept waking up and wanting me to come help her get back to sleep made for a very long night. This is concerning to me because my daughter has restless nights I have to help with fairly regularly and me adding novels to my phone may have been unwise. When my regular routine returns this could be a bit of a predicament. I most assuredly will not have the luxury of staying in bed all morning. I don’t think returning to my younger night owl ways would be particularly wise. I think I have aged beyond the usefulness of that.
If I’m honest, being outside of my regular schedule has made me lazier. I say lazier because unfortunately I do already have a tad of a lazy streak about me. I like to chalk it up to the immensity of my imagination. My theory is that if I can keep myself busy efficiently enough inside my mind, actual labor just seems unnecessary. Yes, I get work done. Yes, I do accomplish things but if I have the option I most assuredly prefer to work smarter not harder. Having so much time off for the holidays is making me worse though. I can stay up late. I can sleep late. I don’t even have to get up to be sure my daughter gets off to school. I am being spoiled if we’re honest. I need to start holding myself to some sort of schedule but then again the luxury of not having to do so is awfully nice. As you can see, I am clearly having a discussion with myself right now. I’m not exactly sure why you need to be privy to it. I apologize for my rambling.
I am simply stuck in a rift. The things I normally have to do are off the table and there are frequent occurrences of things that I am not able to do very often. The Christmas that I look forward to for the entire year is now nearly as far away as it can be but the seasonal feel is still lingering though it is noticeably different. There is a new year approaching and though the routine will still be off, when the clock ticks from the end of December to the beginning of January, it will feel like just another day. Now it will be another strange, in between type of day where I am not doing any of the things I do on “just another day”. It will be just another day in the strange time where Christmas trees are still lit but have nothing beneath them and refrigerators hold the last sad remnants of extravagant feasts. And among all these signposts of atypicality I’m just a bit lost. I don’t really want to resume the regularly scheduled programming, but then again, not bumbling about in a fog of unidentifiable time and space does have a certain appeal. I am sure it will be one of those paradoxes where I will miss the leisure when it’s gone just like I want routine when it’s away. It’s all rather typical really, in a very atypical sort of way.
Prose and Possibilities 