There's no hiding it. I'm jazzed about this Christmas. Jazzed, I tell you. Here I am, cozy by a fire with my doggy-dog-dog, two mimosas in and having a holly jolly old time. And there's that magic in the air. I'll be realistic. It might just be that a significant portion of things you buy this time of year are covered in glitter, but I'm not convinced there's not actual magic beyond that. (On that note, did you realize they're selling poinsettias with glitter fastened to the leaves? Is that really what we need on our indoor, holiday poison plants? I don't know, Home Depot, I don't know.) It's a weird time of the week for Christmas to fall this year. Tuesday. I recognize that yes, that's going to happen; that's how calendars work. But Tuesday makes it strange. So today is Monday and because of that, no less than four alarms went off in my bedroom this morning between the hours of 5:45 and 7:30. You'd think after the first one, we'd recognize that there would be others to follow, but no.
So today is fantastic. There are no expectations. There is no schedule. There is no shopping to be done. There is no cooking to be had. There is close to nothing to be done except make up the pull out sofa-bed that's directly in front of the television for perhaps a James Bond marathon, because, let's face it, that Sean Connery is one sexy beast.
And on that not, Happy Christmas Eve to all.
(Yes, Neptune has a disgusting Christmas wart right now. We've been calling him Rudolph because of it, but it's gross no matter what you call it. Don't worry, it's going to be checked out and promptly hacked off come the new year.)