Last night I went to my last class this semester. I turned in my big ol’ research paper, sat through some chatter, and was home in time for America’s Next Top Model. That was the first time I’ve watched the airing on Wednesday night, rather than the replay on Sunday, all season. And of course it happened to be the finale, a finale in which stupid Saleisha won. She’s an okay gal, just not who I wanted to see come out on top. Really? Saleisha? That’s your big winner? Boo.

I couldn’t wait for that last class to be over because it meant freedom! A return to normalcy! For the last few weeks I’ve been saying “after the 12th” about everything:

When can we hang out again? After the 12th.
When will you have time to see my new dog? After the 12th.
When will you stop being so cranky? After the 12th.
When can we spend some “quality time” together again, ifyouknowwhatImsayin? After the 12th!

I thought I would let a big sigh of relief and feel normal again after the 12th, but here it is, after the 12th, and I still feel frazzled. I have plans almost every day through Christmas, and on the few days without plans I have a long To Do list to fill the time. The way things look right now, it may be the new year before I can relax. Or at least let my brain relax. There’s a big difference between having a few hours to watch mindless television in between the busyness, and being able to actually stop for a minute because, at least for now, you don’t have a million things to plan or do or think about.

Don’t get my wrong, I’m excited for most of the plans I have—the parties, the dinners, the Christmas shopping—but I’m also excited to be able to turn off my brain for a little bit. Eventually.