The Bloody Doors Off

It’s snowing outside.

It’ll be gone by mid-day. Supposed to go up to 7 degrees Celsius.

It’s almost Christmas Eve and I’m feeling somewhat melancholy.

I’m Charlie Brown, and I’ve just purchased a sad little Christmas twig because I thought it was lonely and needed a good home. But then I hang a shiny ornament on the branch and it keeled over.

I haven’t watched A Charlie Brown Christmas this year. (I think it’s only airing on Apple TV?) It’s part of my trio of flicks to watch (along with It’s A Wonderful Life and White Christmas). Usually puts me in the holiday spirit. But things are just getting beyond the absolute shitshow that was my mental state from November up until a week ago.

Linus and Lucy. I heart that song. Always makes me dance like an idiot. You know, shoulders hunched, arms at the side, bouncing from leg to leg. Back in my twenties I worked for BMO at Bay and Bloor Streets. During the holiday season, building management hired a piano player to entertain shoppers and those that worked in the building above. I once asked him if he knew the song, and he played it perfectly. Then, every time I entered the lobby on my way to the office, when he saw me he would stop whatever song he was playing and launch into the first few bars of Linus and Lucy.

That’s all it is now. A memory.

I dunno. We did talk tonight about adding a Christmas tree next year. Marlo brought it up, and I love her for it. It might be nice to get the ornaments out of storage, and make some good memories.

But that’s not the panacea I’m searching for.

If I figure out what it is, I’ll let you know.