Christmas Roundup

Christmas was interesting this year. It was all pretty low-key. My whole extended family seemed a little down, or at least just very mellow. But it wasn’t a bad Christmas. Everyone seemed happy with their gifts, so that made me feel like I got it right this year. I was very happy with mine. People actually got me what I wanted this year. Wish lists are a great invention. I don’t send them to anyone unsolicited, but if anyone asks, I’m happy to pass it on. My list was a little dorky, but hey, it was what I really wanted. Hence, my presents included three books on the Cathars, two biographies of Roman empresses (see I, Claudius, the book or the BBC miniseries for the genesis of that interest), the latest Booker Prize winner, an obscure Hugh Laurie film, the film version of Persuasion, and the miniseries of Pride and Prejudice (can’t get enough Jane Austen, even in my dreams).

I was feeling pretty sick all weekend, and I seem to be fighting off a cold or something. Perhaps not feeling well had something to do with the enormous amount of food I have consumed since Friday (especially the excessive sugar consumption. Seriously, I’m amazed I’m not in a diabetic coma.). So, I decided that I was going to do absolutely nothing yesterday, other than lie on the couch, peruse all my new books, and watch soap operas. This plan looked to be in danger in the morning when Lord Kissington somehow managed to slice the top of his right foot open. We’re still not sure how it happened, but it was pretty bad, and I figured that a trip to the hospital was going to be in the cards (although I warned him that the doctors would probably tell that his problem was not an injured foot, but instead syphilis). The thing was spurting blood like a geyser, but I somehow managed the stop the flow, but not before we had turned the dining room, kitchen, and bathroom floors into a crime scene right out of CSI. I am still finding blood spatters. I sure hope I am never accused of a gory crime, because if they test for blood in the apartment, they will find it all over. Once the medical scare was over, I was able to return to my original plan. Lord Kissington went off to hang out with his brothers, and I settled down with my lunch (Manhattan clam chowder with oyster crackers, about 12 pieces of chocolate, and two Swiss Miss vanilla pudding cups. Yes, I’m officially disgusting) and caught up on some serious soap time. It had been many months since I had last seen All My Children, so I had to call up Lord Merlin with some questions:

Me: Last I remembered, Jonathan was a psychotic woman beater and murderer. Now he appears to be mentally challenged. What gives?
Lord Merlin: I think he had a brain tumor and when they removed it, he wasn’t evil anymore.
Me: Ummh, ok. I thought Babe was all in love with Jamie, and now she appears to be back with J.R., the ex-husband she totally hated? Again, what gives?
Lord Merlin: Jamie inherited all of Phoebe’s millions when she died, but only if he never married Babe. So Babe broke up with him so he could have the millions. And then she pretended to want to get back together with J.R. to get custody of the kid. Only now, they are actually really falling back in love.
Me: Of course. And who the hell is that woman with the dioramas of the town and the little dolls whose heads she keeps ripping off and whatnot?
Lord Merlin: I have no idea. Really, all you need to know is that everyone on the show is really pretty.

This is why I love soap operas. They don’t really make sense and you just have to completely suspend your disbelief and go with the flow. It’s totally mindless entertainment. You really can’t think too much about it, or you will give yourself a headache. Pretty people falling in love with other pretty people and then going on the run from evil mobsters or evil tycoons or weird international evil organizations. Most soap opera towns have more mobsters than lawyers. And every tiny soap town of approximately 40 inhabitants has at least one major international corporation based in that sleepy little town. The major corporation usually has a London or Paris office, but for some reason is based in a small American town, not, say, New York, or LA.

I rounded out the evening by watching a little Pride and Prejudice (love you to death, Colin Firth). I went to bed with a splitting headache (maybe I thought too much when I was watching all those hours of soaps?) and I still had it when I woke up this morning, so I came into work two hours late. It’s really hard to get anything done. It’s really empty and it still feels like it’s a holiday.