The Torture Known As Christmas.

I managed to escape Christmas morning on vacation day five. I missed the wave of the 12 year old, the 9 year old, and the 1 and a half year old. With a 1130AM wake up, I wobbled outside to check my messages and let the dogs do their thing. It wasn’t as cold as it usually is but it still wasn’t pleasant.

100 and some odd messages later, I came back in to dethaw. I was looking forward to the quiet, afternoon ahead. I misjudged severally. I listened to parents bitch at each other. Kids screaming and crying. So much loud noise and commotion. It was way too much to handle.

I read a magazine or two. Relaxed. Napped. Ate a delicious Christmas dinner. Watch those God forsaken Christmas movies. Honestly, I hate them. Too much just blah. They make me sick and annoy me.

The day should have vastly improved after lunch, but it didn’t. We have a storm front coming through dumping a ton of snow in the area. But it doesn’t snow here. Also, because of this lovely little storm Mr. Nelson went home early to the beach. I didn’t get my beers or my “quality time” with him which disappoints me a great deal. But it’s ok. I don’t expect much out of him anymore. Why should I? I guess the upside to this is that I saved on gas. I can go to sleep early and get a head start on tomorrow. Finally, I got an invite to his house at the beach. I consider that pretty ballin’.

The day was lazy overall, but now we got to go shoot the opossums y’all! No really, we do. There is one outside now about the size of a cat.

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