So. The past 24 hours have been intense. I am one rusty emotive machine.
The good news is that I can certainly whip up some pretty tasty passion. The bad news is that I can spread the moldy leavings all over people that I love.
In the past 24 hours I have called my husband terrible names. I have cried (sobbed, really) in a post-coital heap that would make Kubrick blush. I worked my santa magic and had my babies eating out of the palm of my hand. I've napped & had too much too drink. I've snuggled deeply and hopelessly with my son and been the grateful recipient of more 'I love you's' than I can count from my daughters.
Christmas is cool. I really liked Christmas this year and I think as my shedding becomes less difficult, more subtle and manageable, I'll like the plain old regular days ahead of me more and more, too.