A post in which I am a bit maudlin

Work is grinding me down. The month end procedure for Canada is torturous. It was better than last month in that a) I knew it was coming, so it wasn’t an unexpected lump in my in-box – I needed a bit of loin-girding time; b) I do have some familiarity with the information this month, albeit a glancing and incomplete familiarity; and c) I haven’t cried this month. I’m counting my blessings where I find them.

I stopped off at the pet store and then went back to the grocery store tonight. I had to have something to take to lunch tomorrow. I do find small things that make me smile. That’s encouraging. This evening, it was a rather nondescript woman in a pair of sassy red boots. I was glad she wore them. Another one was the sight of a small boy at the grocery store with his father, clinging to his dad’s big hand. Sometimes little things just overwhelm me, and it’s all I can do not to embarrass myself. But I am hoping as long as there is capacity for joy there is a hope for the future.

When I got home I had to change the sheets since I hadn’t yet done it for the week. About bloody time, but then I was gone for three nights last week, so it wasn’t disgusting or anything. I folded the load in the dryer, and put flea stuff on the cats. It is crossing my mind that I have TONS to do this weekend. I have a pie party on Saturday night, and the whole gang is at my place Sunday to put the tree up. The house is definitely not gang-ready. This is the busiest weekend in December, and to top it al off, Russ has been suffering with his tooth this week, so I have to go to get my hair cut on Saturday. I guess I’ll get it all in somehow.

My copy of Xanadu came in today, and I put it in as I ate supper. I had intended to go to bed early, but then got caught up in it and had to finish watching it. I know, in the logical side of my mind, that it’s a dreadful movie – absolute dreck. But I appreciate the cheesy awfulness of it because it was made when I was growing up. The schmaltzy sentimentality of it appeals to me, not because I buy it really, but because I miss the point in my life where I did. It’s so nice to think that love conquers all, that there is a perfect match for everyone out there, and that it will all work out in the end. I guess that’s one of those reasons I’m one of those saps who demands a happy ending at the movies. There are enough sad endings in real life - that’s not what I want for entertainment. So when I get misty-eyed at a stupid movie, it’s because I miss the young, sensitive Steve who believed some of it. I mourn him, and at the same time hope he isn’t completely gone.