This is no way to start a post, but listen. My dog has the runs. I should have known yesterday morning when I called Heidi to tell her how on top of things I was, that it’s the golden rule of failure. Do not, under any circumstance, declare “Look at me! Everything’s going so great! My house is so clean!” because the problem gods have radar ears and are very tuned in to those sort of phrases. They’ll sniff you out and take your clean house and your checked-off to-do list and your laundry all folded and put away, and they’ll flip it upside down. When I realized the dog was sick, I locked her up, but she had eight hours while we slept to hide presents all over the house. Like a really fun scavenger hunt. Hey kids, grab a bag! The piñata has broken!
Somewhere between cleaning Pile of Dog Mess 15 and Pile of Dog Mess 32, I kind of snapped. My dad called just to say hi, and my head spun. “I can’t talk right now, okay? My kids are crying and Latte has the shits”–the last word emphasized, of course, because he loves it when I talk like a lady.
Poor Latte confined to our lanai. The kids had visitation with her through the glass window.
The rest of the day spiraled, naturally. And I think there’s nothing you can do to fight it but LET GO.
Okay, there’s something you can do to fight it. Put the snow village up.
That we did. Of course, four out of six light bulbs were blown on our light strip because they got yesterday’s memo. But I’ll be damned if that post office and church didn’t shine the little lights they were given. Besides, the Antique Shop had been puttin’ in way too many hours. It needed a night off.
Moral of the story? When only two bulbs are burning on your six-light strip, shine ’em bright. The village will carry on. It always does.
I’m over at BabyZone this week for their 30 Days of Thanks with 20 of My Favorite Grateful Moments, Captured.