I am in the weirdest place mentally (and as you all know, I have occupied some weird mental spaces in my time). DH and I are hosting Christmas for his family this year. This is actually not a huge deal, because fortunately my in-laws are all awesome and we enjoy each others' company, so they are fun to have around. But I am an only child and an introvert and having our household go from two people/two (goofy) dogs to nine people (one of whom is our nine-year-old nephew) and two (goofy, stranger-sensitive) dogs is a little freaky-outy for me. So the prospect involves rather a lot of actual and psychic work on my part, plus I have this odd, 50s-sitcom sort of feeling that the cleanliness and general nattiness of my house is actually a referendum on my worth as a woman. As in, I want to do LOTS of cleaning and organizing and decorating before our guests arrive.
And I have no motivation whatsoever. I am totally dispirited (and furious to the point of pain) about the current zeitgeist, and it is a dark, wet, clammy day in a dark, wet, clammy autumn, and I am sitting on the sofa trying to get myself to do. . . anything, really.
Eeeeeesh.
Anyone want to swing by and kick me in the keister?