It happens every year. I plan and plot. I have every intention of being ready for it. And every year Christmas beats my ass.
I do have a little Christmas spirit. Or I did. Usually it happens a week or so before the big day. And then something comes along to ruin it
Festive shoppers, I blame you.
Personally, at this point I'd rather just keep the drapes drawn. Lock the door. And empty my head onto paper.
But I can't.
I only endure it for my daughter.
I like seeing the look on her face THAT morning.
Does that make me a grinch?
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