What do I want for Christmas? My mom asks this every year.
This year, I honestly don’t know. Short of giving her a list of books and DVDs,
there’s not much that I want that can actually be put in a box and wrapped up.
I want my husband’s health back. The medicines he has to
take for his constant pain make him a different person. I miss the old him.
I want a place to live in a better part of town, and
preferably over 1000 square feet.
I want our car paid off. It costs us nearly as much a month
as our rent.
I want to be able to sell or self-publish the other four
finished novels I’ve written.
I want the 20 pounds I’ve gained to GO AWAY.
I want my hairline back where it was.
I want to be able to pay all our bills each month without
juggling.
I want energy.
I want my cats to stop pooping outside the box, and if
they’d bury the poop they actually do in the box, it’d be lovely.
That’s my real Christmas list.
