Post-Holiday life begins today.
After weeks of preparation for get together upon get together I have nothing on my schedule to prepare for. (Disclaimer: I should probably say nothing fun or exciting or requiring great creativity. Possibly moderate creativity born out of a need to avoid blah.)
No need to plan ahead and make items to squirrel away in the freezer, or shoved-in-sideways-door-shut-tight-hope-for-success fridge packing.
On one hand, this is good. Communal living is something that calls to me on some level, BUT, there is something to be said for simplicity. One can't truly appreciate the parties without downtime. Right? And it's impossible for me to be content wrestling with the omnivore that still lurks inside my husband and screams for bacon at special company breakfasts. And frankly, my pots/pans and dishes are complaining at the use and abuse of the past few weeks.
Vacations or staycations are not reality. As much as I hate to admit that, it's true. They cost too much money, the time invested in them is borrowed time. The reentry into the work world, real life world is punishing. The real world has moved on, regardless of the time I've taken to have some fun. My desk will be packed full of stuff for me to do tomorrow. There are bills to be paid, and income tax details that need to jump onto my radar. I love my new kitchen floor. And it needs to be swept. My thrift store finds need to be washed and put away and my closet needs to be purged to make room for them. And I need a haircut. Real bad.
I'd love to be independently wealthy, able to coffee with friends on a whim, shop til I drop daily, go to exotic places without calculating what that's going to cost, sleep in every day. But. That is not my life, or my truth. And I'm telling myself that I'd hate that life, eventually. That I need the discipline of needing a paycheck, needing the budget, needing the restraint that comes with both of those.
I'll tell you, though, I do like the occasional taste of freedom, even with the price tag.