For me, The Day is The Day After.

It’s Christmas morning.  Life in the Boomer Lane’s three children, their two spouses (No, two of her children don’t share a spouse.  Her younger son’s girlfriend is with her family in Myrtle Beach, SC) and her grandson and two dogs are at her ex’s house.  There, they, like every other person in the world except LBL, will be seated around a roaring fire in a perfectly-holiday-festooned room with a 20 foot perfectly-decorated Christmas tree.  There will be Christmas music in every room of the house.  After they open their huge pile of perfectly-chosen presents, they will eat a huge perfectly-prepared breakfast.  They will bask in the warmth and love of the holiday season.  They will spend the rest of the day together, in holiday love and bliss.  Hollywood will provide soft, swirling snowflakes to complete the mood.

LBL is at the computer, typing and occasionally taking a swig of strong coffee, still wearing the ratty pajama bottoms and march-against-human-slavery tee shirt she slept in two nights ago.  Her family left at noon yesterday for their dad’s house.  She kissed and hugged everyone, stood at the door and waved, then assessed the house situation for about 30 seconds, imprinting that each room had become a Wrapping Staging Area, Playground, Recycling Station, and/or scene from the new TV reality show “What Not to Eat.”  LBL spent one hour making no dent at all in anything that had to be done, then sat on the couch in front of the TV.  Aside from regular visits to the kitchen to finish all the cookies, chocolate, cheese, crackers, and tuna sub that were left behind, LBL stayed on the couch eating and sleeping until 9 PM when it was finally a respectable time to go to bed.  She then slept until 8 this morning.

Now Husband knows better than to try to talk to her.  He only asked why one of the pillows on their bed didn’t have a pillow case.  When LBL didn’t answer, he knew better than to press her.  He knows not to harass someone who hasn’t had a shower or changed clothes for a couple days but still has the energy to fuel an emotional outburst comparable to the Mongol invasion of Tibet in 1247.

If LBL can recover enough to take a shower and wash her hair, she might consider going to the movies today, so she can bask in the company of other Jews, assorted Jehovah’s and Muslims and a smattering of regular folks with deranged kids who, like her, are exhibiting the anti-social effects of sugar-overload.

LBL has chosen two films to see to match her mood: Black Swan (psychological thriller in which the heroine must confront her “dark side”)  and The Fighter, about a young Irish boxer.  If you are asking what a young Irish boxer has to do with a 63 year old Jewish woman, you are in the same danger area as NH asking why there is no pillow case on the pillow.  Watch it, Buster.  And oh yeah, Merry Christmas and all that.