WE are the Grinch!

Ann and I (and Jack too) went to Target on Monday to buy some extra lights to put outside and on the tree and some ornaments to flesh out the collection we’ve amassed over the years. Jack annoyed everyone in the store by picking up one of those dancing hampsters that sing “We wish you a Merry Christmas” over and over and over. I kept waiting for someone to bitch me out for letting him play it continually. I had my quip all set and ready: “Deal. In a short while we’ll be gone and you won’t have to hear it again. I, on the other hand, will be hearing it constantly for the next month. I have no sympathy.” Alas, everyone smiled at us. I’m sure when our backs were turned they were flipping us off or eating their mittens or something.

Anyway, we got home and I headed down the the closet under the stairs to the basement in which all the exiled boxes live. These are the boxes filled with the clothes we swear we will not only fit into again but will still think are stylish (as opposed to the 12 garbage bags filled with clothes we dumped in the Red Cross bin as we left the Boston area), grad school stuff, old tapes and LPs, and large toys Jack outgrew but which we’re saving for the eventual second child. It’s also where I swore the Christmas boxes were.

Well, shit. Turns out we left Christmas in my in-laws’ basement in Rhode Island. That’s just great. Ah well, we’ll deal.

Other than that, I’ve been insanely busy hence no real blogging nor any time to write in general.

And now, I have to do that sleep thing I seem to do so little of… of which I seem to do so little… damn grammar.