Christmas.

You know, this is the fourth time I’ve started to write this paragraph, and I’m done messing around. I keep trying to say something uplifting, edifying, or at least amusing about the benefits of having a relaxed, laid-back, unworried Christmas, but it isn’t working. We had a hermit’s Christmas, which was A-OK with me. Having Lee out until 11:30 p.m. working at Best Buy, then suddenly having him get the new job and trying to work out all the bugs of making a change from a one-car, no-daycare home to a two-car, day-care home has worn out my ability to fuss with Christmas stuff, or even to worry that I might not be doing a good enough job.

Who cares?

Lee and I celebrated in our delight of being able to give each other stuff (which, because we’d been broke for such a long time, actually does make me happy), and Ray was overjoyed with all the stuff she got. (Mom, she loved the Barbie clothes, and Mary, she has dressed and undressed that thing pretty much continuously.) I was flat-out relieved to have Lee home with me at last. This is the first time that we’ll have the same schedule since we met ten years ago. He’s here.

One of the chicas at work said, “This job is the best Christmas present you’ll get this year, isn’t it?” Oh, yeah.