I got glitter in my eye.
The cat ate most of the ribbon I intended to use on Christmas presents (I know this because it vomited-up several gift-wrapped hairballs).
The lyrics to “Baby’s It’s Cold Outside” are a little rapey (“Say… what’s in this drink?”).
Half the Christmas cards I receive aren’t addressed to me — they’re addressed to the family that lived here before I bought the house. Apparently, they were friends with lots of yuppie parents who felt it necessary to have their blonde-haired, blue-eyed clone-stamped children digitally re-touched.
My mother sent me a frozen nine pound ham for Christmas. She bought it at the grocery store, wrapped it in plastic wrap, stuck it in a cardboard box with an ice pack, and sent it to me via “Priority” mail. It arrived three days later, no longer frozen, nor edible. My mail carrier was not amused.
Of course, all of that stuff is minor. All things considered, I’m happy, healthy, and blessed to have lots of love and laughter in my life.
I wish the same to you and yours.
I hope your eyes are free of glitter. I hope your cat doesn’t eat your holiday decorations, nor vomit them back up on your floors. I hope you don’t retouch your holiday memories, no matter how flawed they are. I hope you don’t receive a ham that’s been sitting in a delivery van in subtropical weather for two days. I hope you don’t piss off your mail carrier. I hope you’re happy and healthy, and I wish you lots of love and laughter.
Happy Christmas. :)
If you’re interested, last year’s Christmas post, “Twas the Night Before Christmas,”
is less grumpy and less sappy than what’s above.