Dear Santa.... (I am aware of the tardiness).

I forgot my Christmas list.

This should tell you the amazing amount of SUCKAGE lately, because I am usually all over my Christmas list like Hobby Lobby, by Labor Day. I like to give notice, plenty of notice.

I want a lot of things that Santa can probably not put under the tree.

I want a bed warmer. Seriously. Someone to warm my spot in the bed at night. Dogs, men, and kids all are capable of this, but... They. All. Stink. I want a non-farting person to make my spot all warm and cozy, who then leaves. Wrap that, Saint Nick.

I want a personal shopper. I hate shopping. Seriously, clothes shopping almost gives me hives. I need some basics, but I would like to give someone a list, and have them do the (fun) stuff for me. I prefer Wacoal, Seven, tissue paper tees, tights, boots,  chunky sweaters, and layers of silver jewelry. That, party peeps, is as far as I go on shopping...

Counseling. Not for me. I go to a counselor who is plumbing the depths of my West-Texas Soprano-esque upbringing on a weekly basis. She is aaaaaah-mazing, and I love/loathe her for shining a light in all of my cobwebby corners. No. I want counseling for everyone else. Because, all fragmented sentences aside, some of you people are batshit. I have to deal with more of your skeletons than I should ever have to even know about. I have to deal with your e-mails, your texts, your outpourings, your phone calls, your silent treatments, all of it. And honestly, some of you are just rainbow-sprinkled little cupcakes of c-r-a-z-y. Those of you whom I love, I want you to get good help so you can live the good life. And you others, like you with the crazy Hobbit hair and the overabundance of liquid eyeliner (you know who you are), get some counseling. In Nebraska.

A Scrabble tournament. I want to play with wordsmiths. People who cackle over double entendres with their triple word scores. (Although E is a worthy competitor, with her impressive use of kidney epithelial cells, which I cannot even remember the spelling of...).

Lightness. Much sadness this past year, and I am ready for my heart not to be heavy. I want to wake up not feeling dread, I want my dreams not to shock me out of a cold sweat. I want to open my emails and texts without dread (see cupcakes of c-r-a-z-y above). I want to be able to breathe without feeling a crushing weight. I want lightness.

Not much to ask for, right? Pretty sure that I am on the good list. I ate my veggies, recycled, hugged trees, only ate free-range and organic meat, volunteered, tithed, stocked at the Soup Kitchen, said please/thankyou, and did not kick those Hobbit Hair people in their dangly bits, even when it was probably okay. Yep. Definitely on the nice list.

Love,

me

Comments

  1. May I please be a "rainbow-sprinkled little cupcake of c-r-a-z-y"? Because I think that would look AWESOME embossed in sprinkly rainbow text on a business card!!!

    Even though you may not have gotten anything on your after-Christmas wish list, I hope Christmas and the eve thereof were wonderful for you and your delightful family!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I feel cards with Batshit and Rainbow-sprinkled cupcakes of c-r-a-z-y coming on for you. And just so you know, I love some of the crazy, just not the Hobbit Hair people kinda cray...


    Peace and love and rainbow sprinkles.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Um...does that mean I need to shave my toes?
    Eyew. I just wigged myself out a little.

    ReplyDelete

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