I have no ideas, but I must post

Well, that’s not entirely true. I have ideas. That’s not the problem. However, all of them seem self-indulgent and only of interest to me.

As I try and get myself together for the end of the ear, I’m racing in so many directions, and I can’t focus on what to do with today’s post.

Then, of course, I get that annoying self-loathing which is reminding me that I’ve failed to post on the previous two Sundays, and I’m feeling uncertain whether I’m going to have something ready for the next Sunday, which is, of course, Christmas.

All of this is served alongside my to do list, which includes a bunch of stuff that I was hoping to accomplish before Christmas.

This, apparently, is translating to a ramble-y stream-of-conscious post.

I just finished watching American Horror Story’s season finale, and as messed up as this season was (content-wise), I learned that they’re essentially creating a season-long anthology show, and that’s inspired, and inspirational to me.

I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow, and I will need to deliver some Christmas presents tomorrow night, before I go to my mother’s  for the holiday itself, and I’m honestly feeling like the holiday is something of an annoying distraction, and I’m resenting it, and feeling a bit Scrooge-y. In point of fact, I’m not feeling that Christmas is anything but a day of deadlines, presents due, column due, blog post, due.  Then the day after Christmas, I start working on the stuff I wanted to have done *before* the holiday, but, is now late, so I’m playing catch-up instead. Family photo album “Christmas present,” which I’ve only just started.  Backlog of writing work I failed to get done during the past two weeks.  Oncoming deadlines of ornaments (Jan. 7), thank you notes to write (Jan. 3), newsletter (Jan. 1), blog posts (2 plus a Word of the Day) and columns to send out. Columns which no one is even reading.

And they say that the holidays are stressful. No solid waste matter, Sherlock.

Part of me is glad I’ve given myself so much to do in the last few weeks, because it helps to distract me from feeling depressed about the holiday. Much better to  have little sense of the season than to notice that everyone is spending their holiday with children and significant others.

That busy plan was working pretty good until I wrote the above paragraph. Thanks so much, brain, for that one.

Does this post serve any purpose except to make feel slightly better about myself for not missing yet another deadline?  I’m not even sure I’m not just going to delete this thing, and just live with the continual shame of missing deadlines. Is that better? I don’t know.

I’ve got at least another hour’s worth of work to accomplish tonight, and I’m cold, and long for a warm bath and bed. I’m this close to letting that seduce me away from doing anything meaningful tonight.

Expletive this. I’m posting, and then thawing in the tub for a bit.