It is the 24th. Traditionally the celebration of Xmas, at least for we who grew up in Europe.
Chuck was always amenable to celebrate this night rather than the morning of the 25th, and for so many years that was the rule of the house.
Like eating the salad after the dinner rather than before.
Chuck has been gone for eight years now and I have survived many Xmases by myself.
So why, I wonder, why is this year so difficult.
I have done my preparations. I have even baked a bread to go with the dinner. I have cooked and I have imbibed. Without that I am not sure I would be able to get through this.
So I fill yet another glass with cheap red wine, check the pots a'cooking and wonder
why?
I could have gone to McDonald's or Kentucky Fried Chicken and gotten a meal that would be filling if not exactly nutritious, and with a wide circle of losers like I with no other place to go, quietly getting through the evening maybe remembering better times, maybe not remembering at all, just filling a need.
But here I am, in my house with The Worthless Ones, some of whom have not even bothered to show up for din-dins, slowly emptying the gallon sized bottle of cheap wine and thinking of all my friends and family, all so far away.
Merry Xmas.