Looking through the archives I remembered every Christmas is like this. Too much to do, too little time and too little staff to accomplish it. The body forgets. It’s the triumphs of the season–the happy kids, the satisfied parents–that stick in memory, not the bleak moments.
And sometimes I wonder how I made it through Christmas when I managed a store in the mall, never seeing the sky during December.
My staff thought I looked upset today. No, I wasn’t. Half-mad? Maybe. Preoccupied? Certainly. Spinning plates? Without a doubt. But upset? Absolutely not. I wasn’t throwing things.
If there’s a problem to this Christmas as compared to others, it’s that I feel rather alone and adrift. I feel as though I have no one in whom to confide. No one in whom to vent life’s foibles and frustrations. It’s cliche to say this, but it’s lonely at the top. As Captain Miller said in Saving Private Ryan, “Complaints go up, not down.”
The backroom looks better than it has in a while. It still doesn’t look great, but it’s a start.