What it is possible not to love holidays for?In the world, though are a little, but nevertheless there are those who categorically do not love holidays - laughter, fun, noisy feasts, music … It would seem, well than this are bad rare, not similar on week, days when it is possible to relax, like spirit of some celebration and to have a really good time? And here you do not like, and all here. Also there is in volume no anomaly … “And unless you do not see
? Gifts. Birthday pie. A cranberry in sugar …“. (A burro of News agency) I Remember
, in the childhood till holidays not only I, but also friends many at that time - girlfriends, counted up days, and to birthday - even hours … Here, already soon - soon, mother will begin to creep to the room and to accurately thrust a gift under a pillow, and in several hours your ears will swell from “congratulations“ …
from those pleasant moments and disturbing expectations did not remain Today also a trace. Whether I so quickly forgot the childhood and hardened soul, whether ponabratsya immoderately in severe reality of rigid scepticism, whether just people already forgot to enjoy today life and to celebrate red dates as sincerely as earlier.
In the childhood on birthday in what day it would not drop out, all by all means came: friends, schoolmates, godparents, grandmother … It was cheerful, cozy, and the joyful and zabvenny feeling in a breast appeared... Feeling of necessity and participation in all this. But over time at those people who have to be near if not always then on holidays, there were affairs and problems. Instead of visit they became shortly, dezhurno to call, or it “is even better“ - to send SMS - messages (very often - already with a past).
The best friends, when your birthday drops out per day Monday through Friday, suggest to transfer it for the weekend. But unless it is possible to transfer the birth? Output are already absolutely other days and other occasions. And often it turns out that in, such special, it seems, day you alone never pick in kitchen cake waiting when “your people“ have on you time - next day, for the weekend, in a week or ….
And if call, then will surely ask why such sad voice and why it is so silent, music is not heard? Probably, because I on life love sincerity. And a certain number in a calendar is not a prearranged signal exactly in 00. The 00th this day to become joyful, especially, when nothing promotes it. And, probably, I want that congratulated with all the heart, but not for “it is so necessary“. And that my personal holiday was a holiday for someone else, except me and mother who gave birth to me.
I can tell the same also about terrible day of men - on March 8 . Well, what suddenly the one and only day in a year has to be considered as female? Any other day when the man wants to play the gentleman can be female: somewhere to walk, pay attention, to arrange romanticism … Already so many jokes on this subject divorced! And every time is direct inconveniently somehow feel this day for all wanderings of men who have to choose flowers and manage to congratulate: both darling, and the daughter (if is), and mother, and the mother-in-law (if is), and all female colleagues at work … And all because one unruly young lady (Klara Tsetkin) wanted a holiday … once
I cannot tell that do not congratulate at all … Nevertheless are somehow noted - by SMS, by phone, later, then, and besides - for the weekend … And what is pleasant to hide - “late“ all - too, and it is much better, than “never“, but … any more not that. In ill-fated red number you, as ill luck would have it, will stay at home again one (or one), with a cat, and in New year - also with the president … A few years ago I read to
F. Beigbeder`s book “Love lives three years“ only from - for only phrases - “The best holidays - those that occur inside“ - which saw at someone in the status on one of social networks. Work did not make special impression on me, but this crown line at which I greedy looked around, leafing through the page by the page, became one of mottoes. The holiday is not according to a calendar, and on heart.
They say that there is a house and to eat simply the territory of accommodation. Here also and here: there are holidays, and to eat simply days in a year … What to love them for?