So people are talking about Christmas all over the place. Meh. I'd like a present this year.
Just a present, that's all. A real one. One that someone has thought about, gone out and bought - or sent via Amazon, I'm not fussy - wrapped up, and given to me on fucking Christmas Day.
I mean, my mum and my mil both give me money, for which I'm very grateful, but it's just too easy to spend it on the food shopping when I'm short.
I can't remember the last time I got a present that qualified under my definition. Quite possibly 1989. (My ex and I were actually excellent at getting each other a heap of ten books each and not duplicating a single one, hence twenty new books to read).
Those of my kids still at primary school - only one this year - get to buy presents at a Christmas Present Fayre at the school, which means I get the present, which is lovely. (The thought is, definitely). I may even get it wrapped. But I have to accept it on the day it's bought otherwise it disappears never to be seen again.
About six years ago I actually wrote a detailed list and presented it to OH. He did his best, although he's only a man. He went out and bought three things that bore 40% resemblance to the items on my list (right band, album I've already got, right authors, books ditto). He didn't wrap them and he didn't remember to give them to me until a couple of days after Christmas.
Oh, tell a lie, I got a brilliant book from the TRA meetup Secret Santa last year, which was wrapped and everything, but of course not on Christmas Day. (It was wonderfully educational, but I think I was actually happier when I didn't know what felching is *g*).
Last year I think I got two things on the day, both of which made me happy, but again neither totally qualified. Item (1) is a LOM calendar - a lovely friend of mine texted to say she'd been given two and would I like one. Well, I got the text on the day, not the calendar itself, obviously. Item (2) is the totally gorgeous picture of JS as The Master which was on the box my youngest's Laser Screwdriver came in. I got that to a place of safety under guise of taking out the rubbish.
All of which probably explains why I drank my "just for the cook, OK, all fucking mine" bottle of wine quicker than usual on the day, got pissed, burnt the dinner and sent embarrassing emails to friends as soon as I got a chance to get on the computer.
I think I'm just being unrealistic here, but it's been one of those weeks where I actually think about creating a whole new LJ simply to get out all the bitching and upset.