The holidays, and therefore the debilitating nausea, are upon us. Festive things have started to magically appear around my house. For example, I came home the other day to find this thing randomly growing in the living room:
Apparently, my loving, freakishly-talented-in-the-interior-design-department husband decided it would be nice and thoughtful to surprise me with a fully decked-out Christmas tree. It’s pretty much perfect in every way – far more perfect that it would have been had I gotten my grubby hands on it – so I’m on board. I am NOT on board with our cats eating the pine needles and loudly hacking up piles of vomit at four in the morning, but you know. Tis the season.
(Note the absence of a star on top. This is because purchasing and affixing a star is a job that has been assigned to me, thus insuring that there will never be a star whatsoever.)
Also, we now own these AMAZING penguin hand towels that make me dissolve into laughter every time I use them. Look how bugged out their eyes are! They’re like the Steve Buscemis of the penguin world!
By the way, the tree came from a gardening store down the street from our house, and by gardening store I mean a gigantic complex that has more buildings than, I think, all of Washington D.C. It’s chock full of wreaths, trees, humorous garden sculptures, cacti (of which Will bought three, because we are adults now and if we want some cacti, we damn well are going to buy some cacti), birdbaths, and, my personal favorite, this bear forever imprisoned in a hellish trap of flora.
Oh, and this goat sitting on a stump.
“That’s right, I’m Stumpy the Gardening Goat. Check out the new potting soil in Aisle Three, it’s really something else. Ignore these llamas, they are also here with me at this gardening store, for no discernible reason. Anyway, happy holidays from the entire barnyard gardening gang. And watch out – our droppings are everywhere!”