2019: In With a Sniffle

 

I really want to give you something special today.  I want to start 2019 off with a bang, you know?

 

But here’s the thing: I’m sick as a fucking dog* and dealing with some serious post-holiday blah on top of it all.

 

This was our first Christmas with Offspring as a (welcome!  So very welcome we almost didn’t let him leave) “visitor” rather than a permanent installment in our home, and now my holiday season has an official end: the day he leaves.  Always before, I was content—determined, even—to keep my tree and my carols and my lights going as long as would be permitted by Husband, the neighbors, and local laws.  But when I hugged Private Squdgee Booboo goodbye (and went right back to bed because his flight was at bullshit o’clock) I had no further desire to light the tree.  It’s not that I’m over Christmas, it’s just… it all looks sort of sad now that he’s not here.  Like a Who house after the Grinch left; all hooks and wire and crumbs.

(How the Grinch Stole Christmas) sad Who house, all stripped bare of Christmas cheer and decor following a visit from the Grinch; wires and scraggly bits of tinsel hang from hooks and the hearth is bare

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

The Truth About Frosty

 

If you thought we were done Christmassing around here you’re not just wrong, you’re Elf on the Shelf levels of wrong.

Elf on the Shelf sits inside a box, wearing a bib that reads, "I'm not gay, but $20 is $20" A candy cane protrudes through a glory hole beside him and a $20 bill dangles above

Shoutout to Hot Mess Memoir for her Elf shenanigans

 

Also, you must be new here.  Welcome!

 

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Playing Telephone (Pt II)

 

Welcome back!

 

Aren’t guessing games the BEST?

this shit ends now

 

I know sometimes it’s frustrating, getting into the rhythm of a story only to hit the To Be Continued wall, but I’ve been feeling the lack of interaction lately, so I enjoyed the comment action. 

 

And, if Husband is to be believed, this blog is all about me.

 

But the time has come to appease your curiosity and answer the days’ old question:

 

What the fuck was his excuse for his phone?

 

Answer, and the full conversation, after the jump.

 

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Playing Telephone

 

We’ve got a weird combination of boring conversations:

 

ME:  Can we work on getting the media room more set up this weekend?
HIM:  Yeah, we can do that.  Maybe get some space for dog pillows?  Oh, and I can put the latch on the storage shed.
ME:  That would be nice.  Thank you.

 

… And dramatic ones:

 

ME:  … So basically I’ve been freaking out all day and I’m—
HIM:  Yeah, this is… I don’t even know what we’re going to do.
ME:  RIGHT?!?

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

Where I Am

 

I have news.

 

Big news.  NEWSY news. 

megaphone held against blackboard displaying the words "breaking news"

 

Actually, most of you won’t or wouldn’t care about it one way or another but it’s a major life update and will be informing like, all the things for a while so I have to tell you.

 

But I can’t just come out and tell you!  That would be normal.  Boring!  The well-traveled path of mediocrity which, we have established, shall never know the kiss of my Sketchers,* requires blurting and therefore I will not blurt.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!