Once upon a time there was a girl. This particular girl was not a princess or some sort of impoverished waif. She was just a rather average girl in the way that average people tend to be. She kept a blog about her average life, with embellishments here and there because no average person likes to think they are that average.
One day this girl came up with the somewhat common but most often poorly executed idea of making her Christmas gifts. In retrospect, she probably should have thought this through a little more, but she was stubborn, as girls in these stories tend to be.
Since this girl was rather ordinary, there were no sudden bursts of luck with the lottery or long-lost relatives to die and leave her an inheritance. No, she had to work like the rest of the common people. So everyday she commuted an hour to work on public transportation, dutifully put in her eight hours, and then commuted the hour back home. These days were only broken up by the occasional sunny day that lent itself to a lunch in the park or perhaps a rainy break of reading in a warm cafe, but on the whole, these days were rather all the same. Every day when she got home from work, she was greeted by her extremely hungry two cats, although it should be noted that the cats weren’t hungry by necessity (indeed, they always had a full bowl of crunchy food), but rather by their particular taste for canned meats (notably tuna or salmon, and when that wasn’t available, they would occasionally disdain to pick at turkey).
After the cats were fed and the work clothes were shed, she would attempt to practice at piano. She was neither exceptional at piano nor decidedly bad, but just rather average. Still, on the whole, she liked to play, even if her piano teacher said she had trouble feeling the beat. This could be explained by one of her cats who was begrudging of her attention to music and would routinely interrupt her by jumping on the keys or attempting to crawl into the back of her amp (being a rather average girl, she had only a keyboard). Thus, every few minutes or so she would have to stop and please insist that her cat “go do kitty things” in the other room and to please mind his patience. These requests were met with persistent refusals of the cute variety, such as nuzzling one’s head against another’s leg. In truth though, she was actually quite pleased with his need of attention from her so she never did much to actually discourage him from his pleas for attention.
After practicing piano for a respectable amount of time, she went about the task of deciding what was for dinner. If her husband (who was not of the average variety, but was actually quite talented) was home, he would weigh in on what he’d like to have as well. Sometimes they would both open up cupboards or refrigerator doors and look to each other with a sigh, which was their cue that someone should suggest ordering in. Other times this meant making a frozen pizza. They were neither vain nor pretentious enough to think themselves above a frozen pizza, although when the mood struck they also liked going about the ritual of making a dinner from scratch (or from a box, which was close enough in their mind) while sipping on a glass of wine. It was on whole, a somewhat average lifestyle, but they were perfectly happy in the clean simplicity of their life.
After dinner was made, the rest of the girl’s evening was, in theory, free to do what she’d like. Usually this meant watching something on t.v. while doing something else because she was never quite happy sitting completely still. Sometimes she worked on a blog post, which meant a little more concentration was necessary if she was going to finish it in the two hours before her laptop’s battery died. Christmas was coming quickly though and she had promised herself to finish the handmade gifts. In normal fairy tales, this is the place where some otherworldly being would appear and promise her the ability to go without sleep if she would only spin some straw into gold or perhaps her fairy godmother would appear and entice all the woodland creatures to finish her work for her. In this story though, neither were to happen, and in any case, she liked to sleep and her cats were sure to kill any passing creature. So she set about to do the work herself. Still though, she had a dilemma – did she work on the Christmas gifts or on a new blog post? On one hand, time was limited till Christmas, but on the other hand, how often would she get the opportunity to work on a Christmas post?
Without a frog to give sage advice or a genie to turn her into a pseudo-queen, there could be no happily ever after for this story. The girl toiled night after night while guiltily neglecting her poor blog, which was dropping in page views by the day. Without a magic mirror or crystal ball to look into, the girl couldn’t even know if her efforts would be worth the sacrifice, but still she toiled. Her cats, used to having the privilege of her whole lap, narrowed their eyes at the paltry space she offered them beside her and meowed with discontent, sometimes laying across her chest so she couldn’t even see the work in front of her, but still she persisted. To what end though? No one yet knows. As she worked day after day though, she promised she would at least post them to her blog after Christmas in some feeble attempt to make up for the lack of posts and long-winded stories about average girls. She’s sure she’s very sorry to her readers though, and she hopes they have a happy Christmas (and whatever else they celebrate because she’s not the discriminating type), but she has to go now because she just realized she also has to bake about a thousand Christmas cookies.