Sarah Morgan
Although after this day, I – believe it or not – just want to go to work tomorrow. And it serves me just right for not going to work today like a good little SAE.
It was too much paper-writing that took away the Christmas spirit necessary to deal with the always overwhelming Family Festivities of Noise and Glee and Loud Music and Occasional Cursing held annually at Casa de Boy.
It is always done in the very best of spirits, but is always a little disconcerting to those who were not raised in said casa with said Christmas noise and glee and music and cursing. And when you’re still shy of the 15-page mark, it’s disconcerting-er. Or something.
So the tree? She is gotten, and is being maligned upstairs for being too short and too skinny and too crooked. Poor little tree. Although the argument can be made that for $75 a tree should be above reproach and quite possibly self-decorating.
The paper? She is organized thoughts that are not yet coherent paragraphs. It will happen. It has to happen. But when? O when?
And, finally and most importantly, the Christmas spirit? She is somewhere, deep down in there.
Ten days till Christmas, people. C’mon get happy.
Because, after all, when you consider that there was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus, really how can you not be happy?
