I'm still in total vacation mode, which means I'm still in slippers and a t-shirt at noon, and my reflection in my laptop screen is screaming COULD YOU PLEASE AT LEAST BRUSH YOUR HAIR??!? For the love, woman. I can only hope the 5" of new snow we got (and haven't shoveled off the walkway) and today's 40+ mph winds and blowing snow will deter anyone from ringing my doorbell to tell me I've possibly won 200 million dollars, because wouldn't that just suck? You should see what I'm wearing. Not even kidding: green shirt, slouchy hand-knit turquoise-and-grey-striped socks (that I made), and red slippers. It's that bad. (Also the shirt is very long, but it does highlight my unshaved calves nicely).
Vacation mode also means I can't think hard enough to recall or compose any fun Time Traveler stories or re-write lyrics to Christmas songs to match housewife-ly standards, like "On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to meeeeeeee....FIVE DUST BUNNIES, four calling in-laws, three French breadsIcan'teat, two rubber dish-gloves, and a DUSTPAN FU-ULLL OF DIRT." Besides, that's been done (probably a LOT, and by much funnier authors).
Instead, I thought I'd update today with one of those things that I think should get more attention, and since the media is so busy with, you know, newsy stuff, I'm just going to say it. I'm talking about, yes, blue sourpatch kids.
Oh yes. *whispers* I went there.
I'm still up in arms about them, but no one has done anything about it. I had almost lost hope and was reduced to wandering around the house muttering to myself and eating Christmas cookies, and then I found THIS in my Christmas stocking, from my oldest, who understands my pain.
|I can't tell you how much this made me laugh|