Christmas is coming whether I'm ready or not. Actually, I chose to do things differently this year. Thanks to the cats (Boo! and Dash) the tree trimming was easy. We even caved and bought a pre-lit one - which came in three sections. There is not one ornament on the thing because, as Andy declared, it would be too much of a temptation for our youngest gremlin.
I did ALL of my shopping online. Of course that meant surprises like: pajamas that could fit a doll instead of our grandchild; pajamas that could fit my husband instead of our other grandchild; the angst of wondering if the purchases would arrive on time and a near constant parade of delivery folks that sent Jack into apoplexy. The poor guy literally gave up in frustration and told us we were on our own.
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| I quit! |
And, in typical Matchett fashion, we scheduled home repairs for December. De-freaking-cember. The only "outside" decoration we have is the Christmas tree shining through the living room window. Oh, and there's the reflection of that tree in the mirror in the same room which makes it look like we outdid ourselves and decorated two trees. (Things I tell myself...)
I tried to "do things" yesterday. By things, I mean wrap gifts. I even took the easy route this year and bought giant bags in which to put each person's gifts. This Earth-conscious gal wasn't going to use wrapping paper or bows to clog up landfills. No-sir-ee. However, as I was filling the bags, I had an attack of guilt - not for the poor deserving planet, but for the kids who would be disappointed at not being able to rip the paper off their gifts. I caved and wrapped the gifts before putting them in the gift bags. Hey, I didn't use bows, thank you very much.
Anyway, all that activity settled right in my back. I could not stand up straight. Never-the-less, I had places to go and people to see. Well, we needed dog food. I managed to drive to the vet's office for the food (Rooney's special kidney formula) - cranking up the heat setting on my seat. It was 85 degrees yesterday, but I did not care. I turned down the a/c and turned up the heat on my back. I could only walk at a 45 degree angle. I looked like one of those poor bent over people, who make me feel sad for them. I made it home, thankfully.
Then the piece-de-resistance. Jack and Rooney had to get locked up (as well as the cats) because the front door was getting painted. I heard Andy swearing and, for all intents and purposes, having a major fit. Jack, who had been out, must have saved it up and deposited both bodily excrements on the floor of our bedroom. It looked like somebody had dumped a bucket of water on the floor from outer space. We won't talk about the poop.
I have become quite adept at cleaning up messes. While Andy covered the floor in paper towels, I got my handy floor cleaner that sucks up messes. Then I got my pooper scooper and took care of that. Jack was immobile because he is 1) afraid of motorized things and 2) hates walking/sliding across the wet tile floor. Eventually we got the mess cleaned up; Jack outside and Andy calmed down. He is really not enjoying his "vacation."
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