Christmas Eve Eve 2007

Monday, Dec. 24, 2007 - 12:40 a.m.

Sunday was very quiet. I slept.

John made some stunning chili, which was waiting for me when I woke up.

Sunday night was nice, though; John and I had a mini gift exchange, and each opened one of the prezzies under the tree from each other.

He miraculously found that out-of-print Angelique Kidjo CD I've been pining for all year, and he was REALLY happy with the Hardy Boys Disney Treasure DVD I'd picked up at the park a little over a week ago.

Altogether lovely!

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The harsh chemicals used to combat the mildew have rendered me extremely wheezy, still.

When I lay down to sleep, my own breathing wakes me up again, in the form of odd sounds that I dream about.

Once, in my dreams, my lungs sounded like a press conference, in which the reporters were shouting 'Sir? Sir, sir, sir?' whenever I would attempt to exhale completely.

Weeeeird.

Okey doke. It's Christmas Eve.

So, I guess my respiratory affliction is right on time.

Ever since I was a tiny child, I managed to be ill on specific holidays or special occasions. Go figure.

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O, tempore! O mores! Baby Jesus has been microchipped!

I realize lots of people find Christ every year, but this is really kind of extreme!

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All rightie, that's about it. Have a good Christmas Eve, if you observe such, and good luck to you if you're out on the roads at all today for any reason. Please stay safe; I don't want to lose my readership through forced temporal eviction; I'd rather you quit reading because you think I'm a jerk. :-)

Merry Christmas.

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