We woke before dawn so that Fuzzy could take my parents to the airport. I didn’t go along because they had two more bags than they arrived with (due to their nearly incessant shopping), and because Fuzzy was going directly to work after leaving them off. The plan had been that I was going back to bed, but did that happen? Of course not.

I’m pathetic. As soon as everyone was gone, I made a cup of tea and sat staring at the Christmas tree. Honestly, I’m thirty-four years old, and should not miss my mother five minutes after she’s out of the door. It’s not as if we don’t email daily, and talk almost as often, by phone. But it’s not the same. On a visit, emotions are heightened, and we’re both far more mushy, snarky, and sensistive than we would be if we still lived in the same neighborhood.

I finally went back to bed around seven, after watching a couple episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on television, more for noise than because I really wanted to watch it. I mean, they were episodes I have on DVD (my collection, thus far, only goes through season four – must fix that.)

In my family, we generally leave Christmas decorations up until at least New Year’s Day (and sometimes Epiphany), using that day to clean up mentally as well as physically, but suddenly the tree seems dejected without extra people here to enjoy it, and so I’m considering tearing everything down tomorrow rather than waiting for Saturday. It’s only two days, but it makes a difference.

While I don’t generally get depressed during the holidays, the post-Christmas blahs hit me hard. I think it’s because the lights and pine-scented happiness hide the dinginess of winter, and make the cold, bleak weather seem cozy, rather than confining.

Added to my sudden blah-mood is that Fuzzy’s got to go on a trip to Virginia in a couple weeks – far too soon – and while we’d talked about me going, I really don’t want to spend the money when we’re just getting into the flow of things here, and while I WANT to see Virginia – I don’t particularly like to travel in January.

In any case, I’m sure by morning I’ll feel better – a good night’s sleep and the realization that my house is MINE again tend to do wonders. Meanwhile, I’m mulling over the concept of New Year’s resolutions, but that’s a separate entry.