There’s not really much to recap. Dinner with Mama and Daddy on Christmas Eve was delicious and stressful because I had an allergy attack while I was there. (It seems that since we no longer have a cat, my tolerance to the furry felines has gone waaaaaaaaaaay down. Which solidifies my decision to never have another cat. Ever.)
I was pretty miserable and kind of mean while I was there. Sorry, Mama.
I napped on the ride home because I’d taken pretty much any allergy medication I could dig up while I was there. And we got home and did the evening routine–dinner (wings!), bedtime, make breakfast for the next morning, make sure Dan leaves the tree lights on because that’s the Christmas Eve routine, go to sleep.
The next day went something like this:
Wake up, put casserole in the oven, open presents, eat breakfast, be miserable because nothing is open and there’s nowhere to go, nap, look at the snow, snip at the husband, be more miserable because there’s still nowhere to go, go to a neighbor-friend’s house for a bit, be happier, go to bed.
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Ordinarily, we do Christmas with Dan’s family on Christmas day. And now I know that I prefer that we have something to do on Christmas day instead of just sit around staring at each other because nothing is open and there’s nowhere to go.
I should start a support group for people for whom Christmas day is kind of boring. And then we should get together on Christmas night and drink wine or something. I know of at least one person who’d be down with that.
So, yeah. That was my Christmas. Pretty uneventful.
Now that the Christmas rush is over, maybe I can get back to some regular blogging up in this place.
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