It's good to feel the shortest day is now done. I always think of my ancestors at this time of the year, and how they must have trembled in their caves or huts, paying sacrifice to whatever gods they feared and worshipped, that the light might yet return in full force. Strange how many faiths celebrate a festival of lights at this time. Even I, despising fluorescent light, and only keeping a desk lamp on at work, have - for the first time ever - had my overhead lights on most of the work day, since Monday.
I. Need. Light.
Is it - gasp! - aging? Is it just tiredness from too much work and too many years veering from one climactic extreme to another? I crave heat, warmth, my own cave, and a sort of hibernation.
Oh, except for this weekend... I am so ready to celebrate, and will do so three days in a row. Get ready for hugs, food and drink, all you unsuspecting friends and family!
Heh heh. Pass the shortbread, and let's sacrifice some gingerbread men to the Sun god.