Wake up and Blog

The nice thing about having a blog is that we never have to sit in front of a computer ever again and think to ourselves that there’s nothing left to do. You know those commercials where the dad is told he’s reached the end of the Internet? Will never happen to Condon. Because even if he has reached the end of the Internet, he can always open Microsoft Word and do a catch-up blog. 2005 was a rough year to write a daily blog. With grad school and work school tag teaming to steal away precious blogtime, we may have fallen, oh, 3 weeks off the pace. So we’ll take the free time when we can get it to narrow the gap. And consistently, there’s one time in the year where I am guaranteed to have some of that free time on my hands –

Christmas morning.

Yep, here I am, sitting in my old bedroom prior to 7:30 while the rest of the world manages to continue their slumber. Thanks to the wonders of portable computing and wireless network connections, I’m able to write to you all. You see, no matter how much sleep I’ve missed out on the past year, or how late I go to bed, or how many times I was forced to sit through A Christmas Story on Christmas Eve, I’m never too tired to wake up too early on Christmas morning. And I have no idea why.

It’s not that I want to be awake right now, either. When I was younger, I could totally understand my motives to shake off those sheets before anyone else in the house. The sheer anticipation of getting to go downstairs to see what Santa had left us all could outdo all methods of hibernation. When I was little, I could have done Nyquil shooters at 11pm the prior eve, and still bounced out of bed at the pre-determined wake up call time. Waking up early on Christmas morning does not require an alarm clock. (Which is probably best, considering my track record with abusing those infernal machines) And I’ve still got 13 minutes to kill.

The Christmas morning protocol in the Condon household is as old-fashioned as naming your kid “Bing.” At a pre-determined time, agreed on beforehand in high stakes negotiations that often requires the bartering of up to seven varieties of Christmas cookies, my sister wakes up and forces the entire family to fall in line. Now as you can see, I am already awake, but enjoying spending some time in my room. After all, this is the one time of year I do get to sort through baseball cards from 1991. But I’ve got time, since blogreader “Mr. C” goes downstairs first to, and I quote, “make sure Santa came.”

In the past, I totally believed that, but I’m on to that guy. He would doing everything BUT check to see if Santa came. Whether it was putting the coffee on, playing the holiday CDs, pulling out his giant camcorder, or scarfing down some of those aforementioned cookies, he was in stall tactic mode. Always in stall tactic mode.

Drove my sister insane.

Eventually, the green light would come, and I would have to stop whatever I was doing to come downstairs and unwrap presents.

…which is preceisely why I end this post here.

Merry Christmas from You’re a Blog.