So the dialogue (in my head, with my own bad self) could go two ways:
“It is the end of the year, I am behind on my savings goal, and my house is not as far as I hoped either. A very expensive foundation project awaits. I have no furniture for the partially finished living room. (Okay, I have a pink chair for the partially finished living room). My entire yard needs composted and planted since I tore out all the concrete and diseased, ill-placed rose bushes. The truck needs back brakes, and Nova needs her vaccinations. I won’t do much. I don’t need to spend money on a holiday I don’t really celebrate, in the religious sense. ”
Bob Cratchett Dialogue:
“I am one lucky woman. I have my own house, filled with loving furry housemates (and one temporary human one). It isn’t glamourous, but it is cozy, and improving, and the mortgage is low. The foundation isn’t urgent: the house has stood for 120-some years just fine. Why buy perfect furniture or landscape with anything dear when 150 lbs of dog will tear through any minute? I have wonderful, caring, supportive people in my life. I should embrace the true meaning of the season, and give, give, give.
Bob always wins. I am essentially a glass-half-full kinda woman. If that lands me in poverty in my dotage, well, you can say you told me so. Whomever you are. Though that is kind of rude, really. But then I probably won’t be able to hear you by then anyway. Medicare doesn’t cover hearing aids.
But I digress. Gratitude wins, giving wins. I picked four people off the company giving tree, two kids and two adults. The first kid was the heartbreaker for me: 4 years old and wants bedding for a twin bed. She is getting a lovely set of sheets with lavender and violet flowers, a lavender blanket, and new pillow. For a the adults, a nice set of bath towels and a blender. Not the cheap one, no, but a good quality blender that will last. Finally, out of character, I bought a monster truck for the second child. Hey, that was what was on her list. It makes noise, awful noise, and I included extra batteries. I sort of hope her adults have some bad karma to work off; that way I can imagine that them listening to the awful honking and digital engine roar is helping balance the universe, rather than just slowly driving a struggling parent or guardian insane.
By the time I lugged my packages out, I could barely carry it all. It took great control not to say “ho,ho,ho!” as I passed the security guard on my way out.
[Deity of your choosing] bless us, every one!