Tidings

farking hell, december already. i don’t know why time and its passage still surprise me. the way the days pile on top of each other to turn into months and now, almost, a year. not like i could expect a different outcome. but here i am again with the requisite, “oh, where does the time go? oh, the days move too fast.”

i remember how dreadfully slow time moved during childhood when i would count down the days until winter recess, summer vacation. the school year seemed so long and dreary, like adolescence itself. and though i don’t miss being a kid one bit, i do miss the nervous anticipation that accompanied every new calendar year, which signified the approach of a birthday, one year closer to emancipation at 18, to ultimate freedom.

nowadays, new years signify tax season and the need to put 2007 instead of 2006 on my checks, which will trip me for months. they signify the end of holiday gluttony, with the scattered picked-over party trays and dried-up poinsettias. then come the repercussions in the form of credit card bills, increased gym visits, crusty fruitcakes.

not to scrooge. i’m quite content with the present state of things, which, by all measures, is delightful. i have goodness all around me. i feel stable, secure, loved, in control and... bored.

the days are predictable: wake, work, sleep, rinse and repeat. and next year will be no different. i also feel perpetually sick, having just shaken off a cold that kept me home from work for a few days. i had gnarly sniffles that moved me through a box of tissues a day and left me with tender nostrils. when i went in for a haircut last weekend, my hair guy seemed alarmed by their redness, and asked whether i had a “colombian hangover.” now it feels as though the bug jumped from my nose to lungs, making me wheezy.

while home sick, i roamed around in my polka dot pajamas, looking for low-effort things to do between naps. at some midday point, the phone rang and i went to grab it, checking the caller ID as usual before answering. “Zsa Zsa Gabor,” it read. fuck! “hello! hello?” dial tone. fuck!

it was the highlight of my day.