Why is it that every year, without fail, re-entry into life after the holidays (or as I refer to them as, the “Pauladays”) totally sucks?
This is never news.
Like many holidays that came before, these were a mixed bag of highs and lows, excitement and boredom, relaxation and stress, travel and inertia, over-eating and under-exercising, 70% off sales and full-price impulse buys.
I love it all, mostly, as this deviation from my normal routine feels exotic. Which is why I begin to dread going back to work and the reality of real life that lurks around the corner on January 2nd. I grow increasingly depressed when New Years Eve rolls around. It is not supposed to be this way. Is it?
New Years Eve. I spent that afternoon at the Ferry Building hunting down coffee beans (not ground) and ground meat (not whole) that was not to be had (closed early/sold-out) which had me racing to a few other places (closed) and then to the Muni stop (30 minutes until the next bus) and onto failed attempts at hailing cabs and a final cave-in to Uber Car “surge” pricing (2x) and an expensive ride to LeBeau Market where the young cashier told the younger sequined and shiny girl in front of me how “pretty” she looked and asked “if she was going to a party” that night and I just wanted to cry.
Watching a Portlandia Marathon that night in the arms of my husband, covered in cats, helped. A lot.
I would love to not get sad at the end of the year, every year.
Thankfully, that sadness goes away like it always does. And that re-entry into life after the holidays that I dread so much? It’s always way easier than I imagine. It’s actually kind of…okay.
And right now, sitting next to my husband, covered in cats, I am ready for 2013, on my own odd terms.
Happy New Year.