So, in the proverbial post coital of Chrimbogasm, how was it for you?
I must admit it was a somewhat eerily calm event here, remarkably unsettling. Obviously The Spawn had a ghastly good time yet I can't help shake the feeling that Christmas didn't really reach inside me this year. Sure I cooked the food, and ahh'ed at the lights yet felt terribly empty as I sat lamenting the sorry sight of our battered tree yet unable to even gather the spirit to fix it. Granted in part my parting of ways with a bittersweet dear john letter to Mr Zoloft mayhaps have had some hand in this as that lonely little flame reignited and tried to melt the barren wasteland that had smothered it. I should probably stick to experimenting with my hair rather then my medication.
I must have blown the right elf this year for under my Christmas Tree was a kindle! (Thanks Mothership)
I was however struck with the temporary lurgy of doom, yes utter DOOM I tell you which had me wallowing in the confines of stumpy the bed for several days. You know your husband loves you when he empties a potty of your vomit for you whilst you shiver and wibble in bed.
We're not really New Year kind of people what with us being agonisingly anti-social yet even we surpassed ourselves seeing as The Husband and I spent the entirety of it not speaking.
My children will never know how much