It had already been a week. And it was only Wednesday morning. The stress from the previous two days — no, the previous month — was at an all time high. I wanted to remain hidden under the covers of my bed and block out the world. I didn’t have the strength to face another day of demands, commitments, and insurmountable piles of work.
Please notice that I said albums. There are a lot of good songs that come out every year; however, I am somewhat old fashioned in that I judge an artist by the entire album. In our singles loving iTunes jukebox culture, I find that the album as a cohesive work of artistry is often ignored.
The kids dropped yet another ornament.
“Thank goodness they are plastic.” That refrain was on repeat in my mind.
“No, sorry babe. You can’t help Mommy hang these ornaments. These are from when I was a little girl and they are super fragile.”
Outwardly, I was smiling. Inwardly, though? Not so much. “Please, just leave me alone so I can decorate in peace,” was what I was actually thinking.