Death and the holidays

It’s 4:14, and I’m literally watching the clock. My stomach feels like it’s eating itself, and a wonderful toasted turkey and cheese sandwich awaits me at home, so I’m eager for the clock to say 5:00. Why does the last hour always seem to be the longest? Ben’s birthday party kept me out super late last night, so I slept through my morning class today and as a result, didn’t eat breakfast until late. The crevices of my fingernails are still orange from the mango I had at 11:30am but it didn’t tide me over long enough. I digress…

The last couple of weeks I’ve been buried in death certificates (pun completely intended) at work. Going through never-ending stacks of them has led me to start paying closer attention. For instance, I know that the prettiest ones come from Gillespie County in Texas. And of course I always check out the cause of death. But since I work in estate planning my particular stack of death certificates is lacking severely in the salacious causes, tending to lean more towards the “natural” causes. So scandalous they are not, but intimidating they are: “end stage chronic obstructive pulmonary disease”; “acute respiratory distress syndrome”; and “metastatic cholongiocarcinoma”. Geez. They really ought not to let people with a history of depression spend 8 hours a day sifting through piles of these things.

Four more classes, two more write-ups, two presentations, a quiz and a final paper to go. And then finals. Next semester’s lighter load is greatly anticipated.

As previously discussed, I am experiencing an uncharacteristic enjoyment of holiday cheer this year. Going to Rosie Thomas’ show last night – where she played songs from her new Christmas album, which I love – didn’t help at all. There are other changes as well. This winter, knitting has been replaced with calligraphy as my hobby of choice. My roommates and I are also committed to decorating our house, which is a first for me. But not everything is different: Mom’s homemade hot chocolate is still my #1 beverage of choice for the season, and there’s still nothing better than curling up under my micro fleece blankets in sweatpants and watching Love Actually to get into the Christmas spirit.