A season of panic, last minute buying, errands we wouldn't dream of trying to squish in if it were June. A season of mud that soaks the heat out of your feet, and wool socks.
Dave should add wool socks to his Favorite Christmas Memories. You know the kind of socks......Can't wash in the washer or dry in the dryer or they will shrink...... I wash them in the bathroom sink. He doesn't understand why I don't wash them in a bucket, we have so many. It's simple, every time a bring a new bucket home, I find it later with an icky toilet plunger parked in it. I'm not putting my socks in THOSE! So he wakes up mid-morning and wanders into the bathroom and there they are, soaking. There are worse things....
As I reminded my mother at Thanksgiving, it could be worse. She complains that 'they' always leave the toilet seat. I don't remember when she didn't complain about it. I don't think she does either. Since my father has his own bathroom now, I can't see the problem, but old habits die hard and she can't stop complaining. So, I told her, it could be worse. 'They' could just not put it up in the first place and get pee all over the seat. I didn't even get an eye roll for that one.
Joseph and I have started our annual Christmas light charting. We do it each year, and have since grade K. We drive around the neighborhood in December and record which houses have lights up. This year we are counting by street, there are six, and comparing them. Who is winning? Riviera looks good this year.
Our tree went up last night. Joseph got some of the ornaments on. When Dave walked in, he said "I'm sick of this cat-in-the-tree business!" Sure enough, Mary Shelley was in the tree, about half-way up. She loves Christmas!
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