So. Maurice brought us a new gift this morning. Laid out on the exact center of the rug in the mudroom was a nice, fat frog, bottom side up. Only missing one leg.
She's outside right now, pretending not to stalk the chickens.
So it's like what? Five days before Christmas? What does that mean? Three shopping days?
I give up. I can't do it. You cannot believe the stress I'm feeling. Okay, maybe you can but honestly, I just want to go to sleep now. Wake me up when all this is in the past.
Not possible, eh?
Did you know that before anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds were invented they did actually put people who were suffering from those things into a drug-induced sleep for days and even weeks at a time?
It's that bad. Not for me, right now. But it has been before.
Can I just get all the kids a new house or something? Somehow that seems more reasonable than actually going shopping.
Hey kids! Want a new house? How about a nice, fat frog? A dozen eggs? Just tell me.
This all sounds like I'm joking. I'm trying to make it funny.
I don't feel funny at all.
I feel like I'm experiencing my Christmas insanity. I saw a thing in the paper today about the need to create holiday rituals.
This is mine.
Well, we work with what we have.
Frogs, depression, anxiety, death.
Love...Ms. Seasonally Disturbed Moon