How are you? Thanks for joining us to ring in the end of 2012. You snuck up on us this year, that’s for sure. After hurricane Sandy and missing Halloween it was like none of us could even believe it was Thanksgiving, let alone December. I would say “Welcome, we’re glad you came,” but the bottom line is, you’re messing up my life, December, and I wish I could say good bye to you for a while (a year perhaps?).
You know what you bring with you, December? Besides Christmas decorations and “cheer.” You bring gift baskets. Hoards of food descend on my office and, like a moth to a flame, I can’t turn away. There are truffles and brittle and a 10 gallon tin of caramel popcorn. And I’m supposed to just watch these baskets arrive and do nothing? You seem to think too much of me, December. I am a mere mortal with a sweet tooth. I’m just a girl who can’t say no.
You know what else you’re costing me besides my waistline, December? My time. Every night you demand something more of me when I just want to watch Parenthood/SVU/Scandal and go to sleep. Instead its a party, a concert, a dinner. As everyone is closing out their years and cherishing each other, my life is not my own. I want to go to zumba and get up early to write without being hungover or exhausted. And you might say that all of these things I’m getting to do are fun and exciting and I love my friends. All of this is true. I do love all the exciting stuff that you bring with you and I’m having a seriously great time, but it makes me feel out of control and confused and I really like my life the other 11 months of the year too.
I know I’m kind of being a baby, December. I’m complaining about how popular and well fed I am, these are some serious #firstworldproblems. I’m just tired and cranky because I had two glasses of wine last night and apparently that’s enough to ruin my whole morning. Sure it was fine while I was drinking it and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, but I miss the days when I could have six cocktails, wake up the next morning and feel totally fine. When did I get so old that I can’t even have a social drink at night without feeling like I might die the next day?
Fine, December, you win! It’s not you, it’s me. I’m the one who can’t handle change or any sort of upheaval in my routine. You’re just doing your job and showing up here like you have to every year. I was just really enjoying my life before you came along. Maybe January and I will be able to have an easier time than you and I. Maybe I’ll just have to get used to the fact that you will ruin my life every year. I’ll make peace with it eventually.
Happy New Year, December.
Open Letters, in other places: Open Letter to Female Celebrities: Be Honest