There’s this trick that they do in movies (usually in high school rom coms), where the hero or heroine has just discovered that their best friend is dating their love interest, and the cameraman zooms in quickly, implying that the character in question has just had a brain explosion. Do you know what I’m talking about?
That’s what happens right around this time every year. About two hours ago, I felt it creep into my chest: the holiday panic.
I’m staring down a seemingly neverending row of looming deadlines. Once the proverbial train leaves the station on Monday, it doesn’t really stop until July. Between now and then, there are two to five enormous events every month, and I’m the person in charge of all of them. And it will all get done. I get it all done every year.
Luckily, this year, I have made it a point to finish my Christmas shopping early. I’m nearly done now, which is a blessing, given the sheer volume of work that I’ll be completing between now and Christmas. The Horse Whisperer and I have also (somewhat begrudgingly) engaged someone to come clean our house on a monthly basis, which will be our saving grace for the next few months. I have stupidly agreed yet again to doing some freelance work over the holidays, which always seems like such a great idea… until I start doing it. I’m pledging now that this is the last year I’m going to do this extra work.
It will all be fine. It will, in all likelihood, all be excellent. And by July, I’ll have forgotten this moment again. By July, I’ll be back to sleeping through the night, without these moments of leaping from my bed to write down some forgotten, but critically important, thing.
Come on, July!