Happy Solstice!
I don't expect any sympathy from people who are probably sitting under two feet of snow whilst I'm fluctuating between 50s and 80s, but this is a time of year I find crucial for recentering myself and regrouping for the coming year. Forget New Year's resolutions, which are more often forgotten once the holiday fog lifts. Solstice is my counterpoint to spring cleaning, a watershed wherein I am often starting to drag psychically and need to set my sights on new goals, toss the flotsam and jetsam that I've accumulated (literally and emotionally), and start fresh. With the rebirth of the Sun and that extra minute or two of daylight every day, surely I will find that old drive and ambition, right?
My plan is to start with the physical. Since I work at night, I recently realized (one of those rare occasions I was up and about in the afternoon) that my house is starting to look like your stereotypically gothic movie set. In fact, I bemoaned the cobwebs dancing around the circumference of my beautiful stained glass lampshade to my son as I noticed them, and he shrugged it off with a "Vampire" (think Johnny Depp declaring "Pirate") like it's nothing out of the ordinary. Well, he's on his own now and it probably isn't. . . Further inspection showed crud under neglected toe kicks, grimy switchplates, and various collections of treasures the cat likes to stash away for future use (Q-tips, socks, jewelry, old Kleenex, and an assortment of bug and lizard carcasses from the lanai). A book junkie, I've got libraries in four rooms now--all dust magnets. Clearly, I'm overdue for a spring cleaning. I also like to periodically weed out superfluous junk, so whatever I'm sure the kids won't glom onto at some point will find its way to Goodwill or freecycle--not worth the misery of holding a yard sale, and karmically better to gift them anyway.
After the cleaning, I'll turn to myself and pamper and ponder. I could probably stand to indulge myself to a spa day, but my "frugal" gene means it will suffice to buy a nice conditioner, maybe a new scent, and spend an evening exfoliating, moisturizing, deforesting, and filing. Follow that with a day in the hammock with some introspective tunes, and I should be ready to dive back into the old routine again without feeling like it's sucking the soul out of me.
Fortunately, the kids are old enough that even they see no need to succumb to the crass commercialism of the holidays, so my problems haven't been compounded by those extraneous pressures for the past few years. I just need to stop my world, blow the stink off, and get back on the road with a full tank of gas.
And now, having just braved the dreaded WM (where I already see plastic champagne glasses and chocolate hearts) for an emergency cat litter run, I feel it's proper to close with an all-inclusive Happy Hallochristmakwanukaheastergiving! May you all likewise find a little zing as you head into the new year.