I’m tired! The grandsons were here for a couple days, and I have been running around like a, well, like something that runs around real crazy like. Maybe like one of those little annoying hyper dogs that race around mindlessly in all directions, the kind that when your friends coo over them and talk baby talk to them, you say “oh, how cuuuuute!” but what you’d really like to do is sneaky kick them into the neighbor’s yard with the pit bull. Or wait for that little dog to grab hold of its shreds of dignity and tear your friend’s lips off. Yeah. Now THAT would be cute. Anyway, think of me as running around and accomplishing nothing just like some little dog chasing its tail, only in a much, MUCH larger package. It ain’t a pretty sight.
I woke up this morning after about 2 hours sleep with a TO DO list for today the size of Kansas. I gotta run up to Georgia to see my mom, bearing gifts as I go, but I won’t be able to go inside because my grandsons have thoughtfully provided me with a respiratory infection, and I could kill my stepdad that has COPD if I in turn gift it to him. I have to completely clean the house, because it didn’t seem to make a lot of sense to do it while the grandkids were here, although they’re going to be here again on Sunday and next week. Hunh. Maybe I should reconsider my TO DO list. I had to catch and sell some sheep. I have several pens of newly hatched bantams to look after. And I still haven’t decorated for Christmas or put up a tree yet. I, uh, still have some Christmas shopping to do, too, along with grocery shopping.
I haven’t baked the first cookie or made the first bit of candy because of bein’ on a freakin’ diet and now I’m sufferin’ remorse because what if the kids and grandkids will need to enter intensive psychiatric therapy because there are no sugar laden empty carbohydrates of diet doom this year at MeeMaw’s house? I don’t think pies should count as carbohydrates of doom, though. By Gawd, there WILL be pie. And maybe dressing will sneaky make an appearance, too.
Our neighbor from across the street, a wonderful, wonderful lady, made Christmas cookies for us and brought them over in a gift bag. SwampMan has made the rule that carbohydrate gifts may be eaten because it isn’t like we went hunting for them, and it would be ungrateful to NOT eat them. I decided that this morning, after getting those aforementioned two hours of sleep last night because I was busily engaged in shampooing carpets until 2 a.m., which maybe woke SwampMan, who in retaliation turned on the History Channel to deafening at 4 a.m. I decided that for today only I would adopt SwampMan’s Rule of Carbohydrates and attack that bag of forbidden delights. I wouldn’t be quite so tired but a customer needed some sheep, and I needed some money very, very badly, so I was outside at dawn chasing (and catching) sheep. I figured I’d worked off the calories in advance, like. I grabbed the bag of cookies. It was empty. CURSE YOU, SWAMPMAN! It is a good thing that SwampMan had to make an emergency run to Home Depot (or so he said), or else he probably woulda gotten whacked with a frying pan of the cast iron variety.
Eh, well, back to cleaning my poor neglected house, then off to Georgia. I’ll have to get my pick me up through some music thoughtfully left on the doorstep by no2liberals.