Lost

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve (didn't you know?)  I'm trying hard not to hold on to past years' fantasies with the day; a passionate kiss underneath a lit holiday display, an exciting party with friends I know, an intimate moment with my husband.  I'm dreading tomorrow though, because I know that this is what it'll be: Craig's parents will arrive with extreme excitement and noisiness, thus waking Elly and Connor up beyond calming, and we'll stress over getting them relaxed for a good hour and a half.  Then I'll quickly make ourselves presentable and we'll leave, with me freaking out hoping a cigarette will appear in my hands the whole drive to his coworker's house.

Arrival, quick drinks, drunkness, departure.  Nothing in between will matter worth shit.

Arrival at home.  Screaming baby, kindergardener dozing on grandma's lap on the couch.

Will it be worth it?  Probably not.  I'm so irritable and indifferent and frustrated lately that it doesn't matter anyway.  I'll worry about my sister, her daughter, my son and his relationship with his father, my hesitation at writing any of this.  I just want Connor and Ashley to beat certain boards on MarioKart so I can forget that they exist.