Figured your favourite ginger ought to wish you a Merry Christmas.
I am your favourite ginger, right?
I mean, I don’t normally need validation about my awesomeness. But sometimes I think it’s okay.
Ms. Maggie and I stood in line-up for about 20 minutes on Sunday waiting to get our pictures taken with Santa. We were hungover and our hair was messy. Kids screamed. During a childhood story, Maggie loudly let slip, “THAT TIME I FOUND OUT SANTA DIDN’T EXIST.”
Anyway, turns out Santa is bit of a perv. As soon as we approached, he said, “Finally, some adult conversation!” Mostly we chit-chatted, he asked us about our separate lives. Actually, he asked, “What do you do?” Maggie said, “I’m a veterinarian.” I said, “Nothing.” He kept his arms around us for long after the photo was taken. He told me if I tried hard enough, I could do anything I wanted.
I see why Rudolph prevailed so well.
Packing to head home tomorrow, I’ve started shoving boxes in those sturdy grocery bags to leave at the house. I’m trying to downsize my life, and upgrade. Most of them contain stationery, lots of greeting cards and old photos. I threw out a lot.
It took me nearly 30 minutes to just unload the top shelf of my closet. The sheer task of packing up my life is overwhelming. How much shit does one accumulate in five years? I don’t know if I’m moving yet, but I’m preparing. Now I’m realizing how wasteful we are. Who needs 30 different colours of tissue paper for scrapbooks?
There’s that stupid desktop computer that has been lying broken on my bedroom floor for over a year. I don’t know what to do with it, and nobody will collect it. I found two cards I had given my friends LAST YEAR at Christmas, which apparently went to waste. I’m only giving out one card this year. The ones I bought my family cost $5 each. I’d rather have a beer.
Well, that’s it. Months upon months of preparation for the Big Day, and December 25th shall soon be here. In one day it will all be over. Feliz Navidad! Hope you all have an amazing holiday.