By all earthly perpsective this Christmas is setting up to be a stinky one. My love language is gifts and I am broke. That is a bad combination, and an emotional meltdown waiting to happen. And I am the last sibling still in the house. Even my younger sister will be greeting Christmas morn by waking up next to her new husband. The old tradition of the kids lining up by age and walking down the stairs to the living room, while dad refuses to stop filming what we all know will never get watched again is pointless if I am the only on there. So I should be dreading this time.
I’m not. In fact, I have been listening to Christmas music and sucking on candy canes all weekend. Bring on Handel’s Messiah and the wreaths made for the front of cars. (ok, I actually think that looks rediculous). I’m not even bah humbugging mistle toe. And although I may be jumping the holiday gun, I don’t care. I’m in the festive spirit and ya’ll are just gonna have to deal.
Just hear those sleigh bells ringleing ting ting ting a ting ting. (Just ask Ames. Thats how it get’s sung at Club 1524)