Humbug

Ok guys. I'm admitting defeat. Packing it in. Throwing in the towel and all that. On this holiday stuff that's just so cheery and infectious. Everyone out on the internet is decorating and baking and crafting the shit out of this holiday, and it's made me feel less than adequate. I can't keep up. 

(I watched "Keeping Up With the Kardashians" for the first time the other weekend, and nothing really made a lot of sense and they kept doing stuff and maybe going to Miami and having a baby and all this weird stuff, and I said "I can't keep up with these Kardashians" and THEN I realized that what I said is basically the name of the show. But I didn't even realize that because TV totally brainwashed me. So now I have to rethink all my brand loyalty because I just can't trust myself anymore. And I have to buy toothpaste tonight and I don't really know the difference between Crest and Colgate, and I just want something to protect my enamel because I'm deathly afraid I'm losing enamel on my teeth) 

So I've developed a plan. This year for my New Year's Resolution, I'm going to resolve to start making resolutions, so that next year I can resolve to get this holiday crap done EARLY, like summertime. Actually last night I bought gift tags on sale for me to use next year because I already have all my gift tag stuff worked out for this year. And I have TWO sets of unused Christmas cards that I can NOT use next year, and some tissue paper from already opened presents that's not too crumpled.

Did you see what happened there? A hoarder was born. I even have 2 cats already and their litter box is pretty, pretty full. "Do NOT touch that poop. Do NOT touch it. Wait, I need to go through that bag. There's old foreign newspapers and disappointing Kathy comics that I cut out like a crazy person. I shouldn't be allowed to have scissors. But my scissor room is over there. I've got millions of them. In that room there, with my shower curtains and Fraggle Rock toys. Watch out for that cat! Oh wait, it's dead. Nope, it's a raccoon. Nope, it's one of my babies. SOMEONE PROCREATED WITH ME."

Bless this mess.