The day before the night before.

I have mixed feelings about holidays, and probably always will. Because they are so very wrapped up in family and all of that, and I don’t really partake of that in general.

(oh thanksgiving, oh you. i forgot to write about it and now rather don’t want to. i regret going but don’t regret going but also everything about it makes me sigh heavily and pretend i wasn’t paying attention)

—-
I started using the library again. I have a crawling, desperate urge to read, and a dislike of piracy, and I’m running out of room on my shelves. So, library.

The first thing I read was a book that was perfect. It crept under my skin and settled in with a sigh of familiarity. All the tropes I have loved, bundled into a little e-book I devoured in a few hours. If I look at it objectively, without the deep fondness for the clay that it was formed from, it was fine. But to heck with objectivity when creativity is involved. I’m no critic, paid to hand out my opinions like candy (sometimes poisoned, but no one is checking), just a reader, flopped on my couch and enjoying living other lives through words.
—-

But I always spend Christmas Eve with you.