Time to finish blu tacking my £1 tinsel garlands to the edges of my bookcase in an attempt to look effortlessly chic yet ridiculously Christmassy. It didn’t work, just FYI. I looked like I went on a rampage in world of bargains and threw tacky tat everywhere… which is what I did essentially, so goal achieved.
My worry today is that I feel people might mistake me for a crazy cat lady even more so than normally, since I seem to have many little scratches all over my hands. The elves did it. No seriously, the elf baubles did it. Sharp little buggers.
Yet, today was also a day of red hot arguments. Get this, do that, move this, find gold, tip a cow, climb the beanstalk…
It resulted in a petty argument with my own father punching the air, stamping his feet and throwing himself onto the sofa with his arms crossed, giving me the silent treatment. Turns out he didn’t want his view of the football blocked by a box of ceramic Santas at 5pm. Instead of just asking me how long it would take, he just started throwing things about and moving them, like a naughty little goblin or something.
I love my parents, but sometimes I feel like I’m in an episode of Big Kids.
However, the lights are up (and working finally), the hoover has been round at least once and I have re-stuck my garlands onto the bookcases at least 18723 times. I have my fingers crossed they don’t swing down and take someone out with their battery packs.
Ahh, a girl can dream.