Oh Scarlett O'Hara... no-one will ever look as beautiful as you.
I know I'm a complainer, but I'm one that doesn't remember what she's complained about, so every time there's an upcoming holiday I make a mental list (doomed to be forgotten for my own sake in the third day of vacations, of course) and I make plans for the whole 30 or 60 days I'm going to have "all to myself". What I always forget is that I actually hate the freaking holidays. I do. I like having a plan, I like being in bed and thinking "Wake up, wake up, you gotta get up and go do this and that". I hate being in bed at noon and thinking "Wake up, wake up. You gotta eat." And then what? Stare as my dog runs the semi-backyard? Watch some more zillion hours of TV? Do my nails for the hundredth time? Attempt to read some other book and feel my eyelids closing to get some more zillion hours of sleep? RGH. I hate wasting time, specially when I don't know what it was wasted for. But then the reason behind the "Oh My God, What Can I Do?" holiday crisis seems to be on the lack of hobbies. So I'm in a desperate attempt to find a hobby. And like it. Very much. Enough to give me something to do for the next three weeks. Or at least a goal. I could have a goal. I could really use a goal, actually. Someone give a goal! And some waking-up pills. I've been in semi-sleeping-coma all day. For DAYS! uuurrg. I HATE HOLIDAYS.