Okay, so you know that scene that kicks off all the drama in Sleeping Beauty Disney version TM? Maleficient (that would be me) gets her bloomers all in a bundle because she wasn't invited to the party. So she takes it out on the baby, who OBVIOUSLY was the one composing the guest list, or at least gummed Maleficent's invitation into a soggy mess of linen fibers (royalty ALWAYS uses linen based papers--so much more expensive!)
To recap: (allegedly) adult woman has small social set back, takes it out on the innocent.
Now, let's talk about me.
I posted every day in November for NaBloPoMo, and got a lot of joy out of it. I found myself looking at my own life in new and creative ways, and I had fun punching the randomizer and seeing lots of other people's approach to this crazy internet blogging thing. I did it for the pure thrill of seeing if I could do it, and it more than repaid my efforts.
But I didn't get a prize.
And now I'm feeling kind of, well, sad and unloved and just damn sorry for myself, because I love presents so much.
Not that I wanted or needed or would know what the hell to do with a baby sling, or a hand knitted purse or even a Wordpress blog makeover. Not that I need a Barnes & Noble gift certificate, or iTunes, or even a sock zombie all of which I can take my own damn self shopping for to get.
But it would have been so nice to have gotten something anyway.
It gets worse. Because on Saturday, some really cool and energetic and impressive and charming and good-looking friends of ours (they really are all that) had a Holiday Open House. Not just an open house, though, because they had gone up and down Grand Avenue and gotten donations from just about all the businesses within a mile and a half of their condo, and they stood outside on a cold and snowy day and gave away free coffee, cocoa, cider and cookies in return for a donation to a local women's shelter. Donations in any amount were converted into raffle tickets which were drawn at the end of the evening for the prizes.
And I didn't win any of those prizes either.
I know you are all feeling sorry for me, but I can't hear your sympathetic remarks over the keening of my sad violin music. And I can't talk now, because my lower lip is stuck out so far as I pout.
I even know that, logically, there are so many people who would get more out of these prizes than I would. I know that I am better off without more stuff coming into out little bijoux of a house. I know that it's awfully selfish of me, when the whole point is to raise money for women who aren't even living in their own homes. I know I know I know I know!
But I still want presents. Just like Lucy.