It's December 3, and the pressure is on.
Yes, pressure to write out a gazilion Christmas cards, to bake an array of delicious cookies, to purchase the perfect present for everyone on the list, to get the house decorated and keep it clean (as if!), to write like a fiend and finish the first draft of this novel before Christmas.
And what does all that pressure bring? Stress. A racing pulse. A snippy attitude. A feeling of unworthiness. It depletes the joys of the season.
I knew it wasn't pretty when I turned off every Christmas song on the radio. I had a feeling it was bad when I hid the boxes of Christmas cards out of sight. This morning when I passed the mountains of laundry, instead of quickly throwing a load in, I glared at the piles and walked right on by.
I avoided the to-do's and enjoyed a steaming cup of sinfully decadent coffee instead. Careful planning is one thing, but all the planning in the world won't put more hours in each day.
This year I'm baking about half the cookies I normally would. The Christmas cards will go out a little later than usual. The first draft of the novel might not be completely finished by Christmas Eve, but it will be close. And I will turn up the Christmas songs and sing my little heart out to combat the Grinch inside me.
Enjoy your week!
No comments:
Post a Comment
I love to hear from you!