Too bad I'm not the contemplative type...

This is not a sterotypical new years post. I feel like I ought to be looking back on this past year and numbering my accomplishments, while at the same time noting areas to be improved upon in the coming 365 days. Not bloody likely. I've already cracked open the Bailey's, and there are 2 bottles of wine chilling in the fridge and a couple of trashy movies waiting on the TV. I have no urge to do anything deep this new years eve. I don't even have the energy to party hard...I'll be staying in with my movies, my boy and my cat and drinking myself into a happy place.

This has been a Christmas that I think, when I look back on my deathbed, will fall in the lower percentiles of goodness. I mean, it was great to see my family, my grandparents, and, of course, Jon. The family is so big and so scattered it seems like we're never in the same place anymore. Let alone in the same place not fighting. So it was good in that regard I guess.

And it's not like I didn't get everything I could ever have wanted for Christmas. My parents are helping me buy a car, Jon bought me 2 bottles of my most favourite, limited edition wine (anyone who was at our infamous wine, beer, and cheese early enough got to sample some), I got a bunch of cool games (including Blue Moon City from Jon's parents! Woohoo!), clothes, cosmetics, and various knickknacks (including pyjamas that fit my freakishly long legs). So I guess I can't complain about that either.

Oh it probably would have been a top ten Christmas if I wasn't so busy feeling sorry for myself all the time. But damn, it's hard to be an invalid. I get grumpy every time someone else has to carry my milk for me, or when I can't even pick up my cat and walk around cuddling him anymore. I can't turn over in bed without waking up and having to carefully maneuver my foot around the blankets so there's no torque on my ankle. And don't even get me started about my love life.

I want to be able to go out running. I want to race up stairs 2 or 3 at a time. I want to go out dancing. I want to be able to shower without panicing every 5 minutes because I think I'm losing my balance. Fuck, I want this fucking cast off. I am so damned tired of it. And yeah, it's my own fault I've got it on, and yeah, it could be much worse, I'll probably regain full function pretty quick. Really, I've got nothing to complain about. It's just...shitty.

So, not the best Christmas ever, but no one to blame except myself for that. Hopefully next year will be better. Oh hey, I have a New Years resolution after all: I resolve not to break anything next year! I guess that means no drinking when it's really really ridiculously icy out. Among other things.