Hangover

Scotch tape, pecan logs, sugar cookies, sprinkles, glitter. OH THE GLITTER. Glitter is never a good idea.

A nearly dry noble fir no longer supplying water for the dog. It's still teeming with 400 ornaments and the semi-new LED lights that smell like Made in China plastic aftertaste. Buntings, shiny baubles, hooks in the carpet, every outlet occupied. It SEEMED merry.

How do I need two more Rubbermaid bins to put everything away? I scaled back this year. I didn't even make Archer's stocking. Oh, oh no. I just remembered the caramel and chex mix variations and hot chocolate and 17 consecutive syrup breakfasts I made in December. *stomach pang*

I spent WHAT on postage stamps? Multiple advents, dozens of Christmas books, stacks of things to deliver on foot. HoneyBaked Ham, the pale blue Ghiradelli squares, and one solitary grapefruit. Oh, oh no again. I just remembered the pumpkin roll.

The doorbell did ring a lot. Internet shopping cause and effect?

Why is Greg insisting the tree stands until January? I've read how many mites occupy living trees. It's creeping me out and making me sneeze. I want that bad boy parked on the curb and my sofa back in its spot. Red velvet bundt cake! I knew I was forgetting something. (Kurt! That's the one I left out! God bless Kurt!)

Ow. Ow ow ow. I thought I did Christmas responsibly. Give me a celery stick, a Clorox wipe, and a nap.