If there was any doubt in my mind that I hate Christmas, it’s gone. No doubt left. I hate it.
Today I thought I should try doing a little Christmas shopping with my lack of money. Stressful even before I leave the house. But I needed to get a couple of things, including something for that damn j-o-e-y swap. (Love you, Joey… no offense.)
I won’t bother detailing the entire experience. But I’ll tell you that the end result was… socks. Not even a Christmas gift… my daughter just decided to tell me this morning that all her socks are too small and she has none… thanks for letting me know, kid! Socks. Oh, and how could I forget the phone call to Mom and tears streaming down my face in the middle of Target. Can I ever show my face in there again?
I can’t wait ‘til January. Why did I wait until now to do this crap? I want to order online. I assume it will still get here in time. But part of me doesn’t even care anymore. Part of me never cared in the first place.
Bite me, Christmas.
And… before all of that happened…
This morning I was in the shower where I usually do lots of thinking (too much). But sometimes I do get great ideas while I’m in there. Too bad my memory sucks and I usually forget them all. Anyway…
I was washing my face when I heard this loud banging thud. Oh Fuck. Someone broke into the house. Someone drove their car into the house. The water heater exploded. Fuck Fuck Fuck. I turned off the water and dried myself as quickly as possible. Sure, maybe I was about to be murdered, but I was not going to track water all over the house. I don’t want to have to clean that up!
I wrapped the towel around me started frantically running around the house trying to figure out where the noise came from. No one in the house with me. Good. No car in the living room. Good. No basement explosion. Good. Note to self: be careful running naked, but for a towel, down the basement stairs. Of course, I don’t know what I thought I was going to do if there was someone in the house… you know, having broken in through the basement back door. I didn’t have a weapon. I didn’t even have clothes. What the hell was I going to do? Whip them with my towel?
I called my husband at work. He said if nothing looks wrong, he’s sure everything’s fine. Super helpful, as always.
And after all of that, I had to get back in the shower because I hadn’t fully rinsed the conditioner from my hair.
I am still not sure what the fuck that noise was.
©2017 what sandra thinks