Reading: Dead in The Family by Charlaine Harris
Listening To: Lift by Sister Hazel
Watching: Bones Series 5
So it’s getting hotter, the cats have been shedding and there’s a sense of impatience, irritation and/or short tempers in the air. This all means Christmas in my house.
You know what else means Christmas?
- The smell of plastic, wrapping paper and sticky tape 😀 Yep, like a Pavlovian reaction, as soon as I get a whiff of plastic, I automatically think of Christmas.
- Baking fruit mince pies (my mom’s are the BEST!) and roast turkey. I looooove turkey!!! And prawns. And trifle.
- Lunch. Christmas at our house means a smorgasbord spread, full of cold cuts, cheese, crackers, prawns and assorted salad. I’ve found that as you get older, when the joy of opening presents becomes less important, food takes priority.
- An early, early morning. Thank you, 10yo child of mine 😉
- Lamenting the fact I have no air conditioner in my bedroom. THIS YEAR (royalties willing) I am going to buy one.
- Lego. I love Lego. My son loves Lego. My 15yo nephew loves Lego. I’d probably build Lego even without the excuse of a Lego-obsessed child.
- The line. And we say it without fail, every year, barely an hour after every present’s been opened. There’s a bag of rubbish on the floor, boxes have been ripped apart, toys are strewn and the tree is looking bare underneath. We all look at each other and say the line: “Huh. Well, that’s it for another year.”
And of course, after Christmas comes the sales. The crazy, crazy sales that means filling up that brief bare wardrobe space with NEXT years’ presents. Like Mother Nature, my wardrobe abhors a vacuum. Dammit.