On Christmas Night

...and all through the house, nothing was stirring, not even a mouse.

And me. Because I'd got up to stuff my face full of crap in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep afterwards. Perhaps my Christmas was a bit too merry, I'd eaten enough to feed a small country and drunk just enough to ensure that my night would be extra uncomfortable as the room span around me.

So there I was, laying on the two seater sofa, with my feet hanging off the edge and my neck bent at an unnatural angle, listening to my dad and my uncle snore at eachother across the landing. I soon became engrossed in their efforts to drown eachother out which went something like this;

Uncle: snore
Dad: snoore
Uncle: snoore-snort-snore
Dad: snoooooore-snoooore-snortsnort
And so on...

Then it hit me. Christmas Day has come and gone - that means that all the things I've been putting off until 'after Christmas' now need to be done. I need to get back to the gym (if I can remember where it is). I need to talk to my dad about how what we need to do now he's lost his job. I need to start paying off my credit card. This is why the post-Christmas come down is always so harsh, because nothing can ever be allowed to ruin Christmas and so is put off until afterwards, and by making sure Christmas runs smoothly and happily, we ensure ourselves a shockingly grim start to the new year.

Still, I'm not a total scrooge - part of me thinks a shitty January is worth it for that one glorious day of fantastic indulgence.

Bring on the crappy New Year!

tbr