I'm home. In the TV room. 2 rolls of the roomies wrapping paper in front of me and a few assorted bibs and bobs strewn about. And celebrating the evening before my (harumphyMcharumpherson) birthday.
I ran out into the world tonight to grab something as a favor to my mom which wasn't as heinous as I imagined it could have been if you were to believe the news. (In and out of stores within scant minutes) And now I watch as the twilight hours of the last year celebrating my b'day tick off.
I figured since I was born on X-Mas, this last magic birthday meant I would be dragged off by Roman Centurions around Easter to be asked a bevvie of questions regarding my self-proclaimed awesomeness. It was not to be, however, and it just meant a very minor case of buyers remorse and fond memories of a tax-rebate funded cruise with my beeb. Could have been worth, savior-wanters.
So this year, I have asked family to avoid gifting me in lieu of either donations to charity, gifts for my growing niece and nephew, well wishes, and a general hope that we as a society/country can start to do the slow crawl to more prosperous times. This is dubious since my mom was asking for an X-Mas list up to the 22nd. Sigh...
I'll try, again, to rise for my "I was born at 5:54 am" post saying I was there I ushered in a new year for myself.
Instead, I'll probably be snoozing off the night with Santa overhead.
Happy Holidays, Frassers. Be safe, well, and loved this upcoming New Year.
I hate wrapping gifts. My cuts look like a 2nd grader attempting to do it with their non-dominant hand and I could probably stand to single-handedly finance the gift-bag industry.
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