I loathe this time of year. Not the various and sundry religious celebrations, those are way kewl as long as I don't have to sit in; I'm happy to walk by, see the lights shining inside and hear the happy voices. Makes me feel all warm and friendly.
No, it's the happy-happy-happy commercial crapola and all the social baggage, and pretending I can even remember the names of the, what are they up to, third or fourth-generation children that I see once a year.
And all the little frustrations of Winter -- I went to scrub out the bathtub, aiming at a nice long soak with Epsom Salts and a cuppa hot chocolate, and got as far as spraying the tub with household cleaner and heating water. Opened the new box of hot chocolate mix, lifted a packet out and kind of shook it, as one does--
And sprinkled cocoa powder all over the stove, all over the floor, all over myself. You see, the packet was miscut. As were allll of the others in the box, off by an eighth of an inch or so as they went through the packet-packing machine. None were sealed. Total loss.
Gotta clean that up, but in the meantime, the bathtub that the cats occasionally leap into has cleaner in it, so I have to hastily sweep up the worst of the chocomess, then run and shut the washroom door, then back to the kitchen and clean up, etc. Needless to say, the nice relaxing hot soak is o-u-t.
But hey, the bathtub is squeaky clean and some progress has been made on the kitchen floor, too.
I loathe this time of year. My joints ache, my sinuses act up and everybody is so miserably in-your-face fake-happy that I wanna just curl up in a corner. Possibly with a hot cuppa hemlock. --But you know there'd be some damned thing wrong with it, "Oh, no, the hemlock crop got hacked between Black Friday and December 15;* somebody stole all the lethality. Heck, you could bathe in it...." Bastids.
* Yeah, I used a credit card at Target between the day after Thanksgiving and the 15th. Don't have online access to that account, either, so I will have to go to the bank and see what they can do, if anything.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago