the figgy pudding is ... behind the horseradish?
Not to imply that I, living in lower-middle class Blue State America, could truly compete in a misery contest with the likes of most Dickens characters, but here's the score on this particular afternoon:
- My workplace is so poorly heated that I usually have to don a scarf and fingerless gloves while toiling away in my cubicle.
- I sprained my ankle in March, and it still feels wonky sometimes (depending on the barometric pressure).
- Two days before Christmas, my refrigerator looks like this:
(And there ain't no suspiciously repentant Scrooge-like character coming through with a goose any time soon, I tell ya.)
So yeah, that's right, Tiny Tim. You just limp off, stage left. I'll win the hearts of countless scores with my cheery pluck and determination (and two kinds of mustard) this holiday season....
D - 1, Cratchits - 0
- My workplace is so poorly heated that I usually have to don a scarf and fingerless gloves while toiling away in my cubicle.
- I sprained my ankle in March, and it still feels wonky sometimes (depending on the barometric pressure).
- Two days before Christmas, my refrigerator looks like this:
(And there ain't no suspiciously repentant Scrooge-like character coming through with a goose any time soon, I tell ya.)
So yeah, that's right, Tiny Tim. You just limp off, stage left. I'll win the hearts of countless scores with my cheery pluck and determination (and two kinds of mustard) this holiday season....
D - 1, Cratchits - 0
posted by D of D&K at 11:05 PM
2 Comments:
Oy. I should have sent some of the cheese home with you because that fridge? Would send Old Mother Hubbard into counseling... if the dog hasn't already.
I hope you're at your mum's and that she's feeding you.
Happy Xmas, snookums!
xoxoxo, MP
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