I have been shopping a lot lately because there isn't much else to do. Last year for Christmas, I was in Montana visiting Peter. Before the Boy was in treatment, Christmas was filled with activities more than stuff. Friends had parties. The Seattle Children's Theatre, the Fifth Avenue and the Paramount had plays. Restaurants had dinner. Mountains needed to be skied.
Welcome to 2020, the year of "None of the Above."
This year, I hit the Nordstrom Rack. I bought a weighted blanket, filled with little glass beads that is supposed to reduce anxiety and help me sleep. So far, so good.
What else can make me feel better about my life? Brighten my mood? My VP send me a "Remote Break Room" snack box filled with chocolate, tea and popcorn--my three favorites--which was very nice.
I needed something that would make me smile through all of the crap. This is the present I got for myself:
Hello 2021. If it is worse than 2020, I'll have my unicorn slippers to help me get through it.
Which then begs the thought -- what is 2021 is worse than 2020? Could it be? Yes! Think of all of the terrible things we might have missed or postponed because of the quarantine? What if we forget how to be friends and sociable and offend people left and right in 2021?
Yesterday I was in a bleak mood. Two weeks ago Sunday, I was in a bleak mood. Why? Like everyone else, I had reasons to be down: my job is in flux, my family still struggles. I was feeling like Eeyore, and I didn't like my own company. I talked to my dad for a few hours yesterday, and I felt better.
Maybe Eeyore wouldn't have been such a downer if he had unicorn slippers. One thing Eeyore had that I don't right now are friends who I see regularly, who I hang out with, for walks, for coffee, for dinner.
I miss my friends. Even if 2021 is worse than 2020, I hope I can be around people I like and love. And if that is the case, then it can't be worse, no matter what 2021 brings.
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