I’ve finally gotten my holiday groove on, people! I’m just back from a 6 a.m. run to Meijer, followed by an hour at Kohl’s. With the help of Amazon, Ticketmaster and a few swigs of a lovely merlot, I am feeling quite good about the Christmas season. True, I have not written the annual family missive, nor have I mailed a single card. In fact, I haven’t even ordered the cards, so I may very well be sending glad tidings for the New Year! I’m not worried. “Better late than never” is our family motto!
Now, if only my husband Doo would stop being such a Grinch. I don’t know if it’s Doo or all men, but whenever the stress hits in force, he cannot seem to pull himself together. He’s been oscillating between “I don’t care if Maddie has dance, we’re going to decorate the front porch NOW” and “I can’t possibly get anything done if you keep nagging me about addressing envelopes.” This is why I’m playing Bing Crosby non-stop around this joint. I need a sultry crooner to keep me from the ledge.
I’m also stuffing my face with bourbon-soaked English fruitcake to keep my retorts in check. I want to tell Doo to quit whining and go to the office if he needs to work. Seriously, anyone here expecting to be left alone in the peace and quiet for seven hours on a Sunday is living in a winter wonderland. This place is the Island of Misfits Toys, my friends. We have cats vomiting on rugs, kids freaking out over exams, cars breaking down, and little to no chance of avoiding illness in the next few days. Plus, I teach through Dec. 22. Momma ain’t gonna be around to ensure everyone stays on Santa’s nice list. Let the reindeer games commence!
My point is, I need Doo to get on board my “Polar Express,” for him to take a moment to enjoy this crazy season, and more importantly, to revel in my spectacular purchasing prowess. Also, we should probably get on the card thing. Peace out.