Last night I did what I normally do: wrestled with an insomniatic sleep pattern and go to work with only 3 hours under my belt. Well done Kate, here have a medal, you absolute dipstick.
Today I was tasked with sprucing up the spruce, sparkling up the sparkles and snowing up some snowflakes. So I went down to the basement and dragged up some wreaths that were as big as me… before refusing to go near them because they had spiders on them. So my friend and I spent a good few minutes tapping the wreaths with sticks and the very tippy toes of our shoes, until we got the spiders and their cobwebs off.
When we were finished bending and prodding and pulling and fastening, I have to say they looked pretty swanky. Can I get a whoop whoop for fancy decorations please?!
However, by lunchtime, my bah humbug side had come out to play, I was feeling super tired that I felt my face physically drop, which is always dangerous because that only means one thing: resting bitch face.
Yes, my RBF made a work time appearance and she was not playing hard to get. Riding in a lift akin to that from the Twilight Zone, I managed to give my friend the glare of a life time. Luckily, she took it in good spirits, laughing so hard at how simply evil I managed to look as I threw her a nasty side eye. The sad thing is, I don’t always know when I’m doing it. I mean, I have genuinely lost friends over this. It is just something my face does when I’m tired… and add that I was hungry too. It was just all going against me.
So I shut up. Perked up. Got a coffee. Watched the sun set and dealt with life.
Boom. That’s how we Christmas.