Bitchy for Christmas

I'll admit it. I'm in a bad-ish mood. Yeah, ME. Could it be that EVERY time I sit down to write at my computer or make jewlry, Mr. Stripes sits where my working hands should be? I literally have to encircle him with my arms to get to the keyboard. He purrs quietly as I do this. Yes. I move him. But EVERY time, he returns to the exact same spot, in front of my hands.
Could it be that I started working on creative gifts for Christmas in early November so that I could be done and put my feet up and enjoy the magic sparkle around me, only, here we are on December 22 and I am surrounded by messy messes everywhere made by my very own crafting craze? What the fuck!
And then there is Brittany Murphy dying at age 32. That's just wrong.  You are not supposed to just drop out without warning. It's upsetting to the rest of us, even if it was your scheduled time to go.
 My meditations the last few days have been filled with christmas songs that are stuck in my head, repeating like a hit clip from 1999. Today I have to pay bills, gather gifts, clean up two half-mauled gingerbread houses to make room for making a meal tonight, oh, and the electrician is coming to stop the upstairs smoke detectors from chirping every 12 seconds.
What I would like is to be taken care of, nurtured, loved. I would like someone to tell me how beautiful I am, inside and out, not that they want me to have my hair dyed for their birthday present or that I should start taking my thyroid medication to help burn off that extra weight. I would like to have the time and desire to make dinner, or have someone else want to take on the job. I would like to finish all my gift-making and close up shop until Valentine's Day. I would like to FEEL. Feel energy rushing through me during meditation, feel the love I give and receive, feel happy, feel like laughing, feel the crying that needs to happen, feel pissed off, if that's what I need.
I think I feel better now.