The holidays are coming. I know this because there's a certain wreckage of home that only happens in early December. And HildieBeesty hurled a total of 9 times today. She hasn't yakked in weeks so I guess it was time to really go for the gold. Always a spectacle. There are boxes to go to the post tomorrow, two boxes of wrapped presents waiting for a tree and random bits of decorations in temporary and odd places. Above it all, staring across the room at me from a bookcase is the cross-stitch Strider made for me that says
Enjoy your holidays.
With the tree going up tomorrow- followed by at least one day of fluffing- I turn a blind eye to the mess. Cat puke on the rug? It'll dry and get vacuumed and cleaned on Friday when the Grand Holiday Cleaning begins. I'm trying to psyche myself for it all. No, really, I am. Started holiday training at Thanksgiving (well, after Strider went home) and I'm up for this. And it's not hopelessly disorganized. It's just that this is a small place. At least nothing is ever out of reach. All I really have to do is keep my shit together, and things'll be fine.
Today was the birthday of 2 guys I like a lot- our Paul, and Ozzy Osbourne. So much for astrology.
Ah it's nearly midnight. Long day tomorrow, so buckety buckety. Night all.
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