Lessons From the Kissing Booth

I am very tired of people putting their fingers in my mouth. Whoever told me going to the dentist was a good idea was a great big liar.

As of right now, I'm still without plans for both Christmas and New Years. I'm starting to figure out volunteer possibilities for Christmas Day, but my lack of planning has me a little bit worried--I'm a pathological planner. The fact that I'm seriously considering trying to schedule my wisdom teeth surgery so that I'll be out of commission for New Years worries me even more.
This is my first holiday season completely on my own. A few very nice people have invited me to spend Christmas with their families, but I don't really want to hang out with someone else's family. The trouble is that I don't want to hang out with my own family, either, and that's why I'm staying here. This used to be my time of year, with all of the cooking and the visiting and the failing at keeping secrets, with all the opportunities for just being nice, and I haven't been able to reconcile that with the way things are now.

I am, very slowly, unraveling.

I also haven't done my Christmas baking yet this year, which ought to be remedied sometime in the next week. This'll give me a chance to wear my adorable new apron and maybe hang out with nice girls that will give me hugs. I'll definitely be making fudge and sugar cookies, along with something else. If anyone wants some, let me know now, because otherwise they'll all be going to my office to keep the wolves at bay--they've been complaining that I haven't baked for them lately. Gingerbread moose will likely not be on the agenda this year because I smelled like molasses for days after cooking up those suckers.