I thought about Christmas cookies all day yesterday.
I felt powerless to do anything about it--the runaway train that is my life.
I stepped into my messy closet at bedtime last night, and announced to Dub that I quit. I was kind of surprised at how abruptly and loud he answered, when he said quitting was not an option. I think he'd like the closet to be clean even more than I would. Either that, or the thought of tackling this tottering, chaotic empire we've built all by himself was overwhelming and terrifying.
Neither one of us has been able to successfully summon the cleaning Gods. The mess in the closet is totally mine. I haven't even started with the sorting and wrapping fiasco that turns into a month-long race against the clock.
The stockings have been hung by the chimney with care. The front hall looks like the attic sneezed the rest of the Christmas decorations right onto the entryway floor. The smooshed artificial wreaths with wrinkled bows need help, and I just know it's gonna have to be me.
I dread the tree. I've thought about lacing the cat food with a tranquilizer until after the holidays.
There's nothing for breakfast dessert today. The facts: there are NO freshly baked treats in the house. It's December! I'm frantic. We're already at day two, and there are no cookies in the jar. I will take care of this problem today.
Cookies trump messy closet.
I need energy.
I have reading to do.