I spent three hours cleaning the cat area at the store this morning. Then I made phone calls to arrange a trip to Manhattan for about a dozen girls and moms. So hubby and the girls get to drag the tree in from the shed and decorate it. I’m taking a shower.
One of these days I need to re-write a classic Christmas Song as a New Jersey version. It’ll start, “I’m dreaming of a wet Christmas. . .” Almost every year it’s rain. Well, at least we don’t have to shovel it.
I do have to head up to a shopping plaza today, though, because Audrey needs to go gift shopping. I have to do it because I’m far more tolerant of waiting in lines than hubby is. The downside for him is that I might end up spending money, whereas he’d be in and out with nothing that wasn’t on his list. MUHAHAHAHA! Worst of all, this shopping plaza has not only a Barnes and Noble, but a shoe store. . .
Monday night, the band is playing at a local Catholic church for Christmas Eve services. One of the kids refuses to go because he’s a satanist. Good thing – there could be a major battle between the two imaginary friends right there if he went. How silly.
All the presents are wrapped, I just need to get hubby a bottle of sake to stuff his stocking, and decide what I need to buy at the supermarket so we can hole ourselves up and ignore the rest of the world for a few days.