Bah Humbug!

Ah yes, and just as soon as even the faintest glimmer of my former self decides to resurface than the universe must go and wee in my cheerios once more.
My mother just called to inform me that my grandmother, my last surviving grandparent, has just been diagnosed with a malignant throat tumor.
My grandmother has a habit of falling ill around my birthday. Twice she's been hospitalized on the day of or right before. This has nothing to do with me and more to do with the strain she puts on herself to decorate and prepare for Christmas. But this year she is actually, and perhaps mortally, ill.
She will have to go in for a tumor removal and six months of radiation therapy. Yep, Merry Christmas.
Just in time for my birthday, and considering how my mind works, I don't really need the reminder about my own mortality. Personally I do everything I can every day in an attempt to forget that very thought.
So it seems, on top of everything else, that Mere Lapin and I might have to go back to BackWater PA for one last moonshine swillin, tooth missin, wife swappin, cousin kissin, yet again let's remind of how much a loser you are because you can't even get a boyfriend never mind a husband Christmas.
Ever wonder how Ebenezer Scrooge got to be so mean? I don't.
Not anymore.

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