A Whole Lot Of I Don't Know What

It is a cold, harsh fact of life that my husband is better at putting sheets on a bed than I am. Except I don't know why it has to be cold and harsh because putting sheets on a bed is one of the things that I loathe more than anything.
So, it is a warm, fuzzy fact of life that my husband is better at putting sheets on a bed than I am.
This is one of those things that makes proof out of the "opposites attract" or "they even each other out" theories of relationships. As we have discussed before, I'm better at not keeping dishes in the sink than he is.
Although not lately. Ugh. Big UGH.I need to get my be-hind back into gear after the chaotic lazyfest known as the December Holiday Season.
Oh. The December Holiday Season.
I love Christmas. We all know this. I HATE what Christmas does to my life. Is that terrible? I love something so much, but it wears me down so much too?? How is it possible to be so busy, and yet not get anything done????? Do I need an intervention....?

Every year I go bonkers running around trying to keep up with and do everything, and every year I promise myself it won't happen the next year. It's not like I'm even doing anything major either! There are no dinner parties being thrown! (but that's hopefully changing, remember?) I'm not baking cookies to send to children in Russia for Christmas! Why do I get so hectic? And why do I have to get hectic when it's the time of year that makes me want to just wear pajamas and stay home?

I am now making all of you responsible for showing this post to me when November rolls around and I start becoming a glutton for punishment again.

Is it just our country that does this? Run run run and don't stop running until you've done everything perfectly for the holidays, regardless of whether or not you're actually ENJOYING what's going on.
If "Rick Steve's European Christmas Special" has taught me anything (and oh my, it HAS), it's that we could take a page out of the French's book and scale back on the "stuff" of the holidays and focus more on the people.
And the food. Oh man. Those French know how to do food. Right?

The bottom line is, as much as I love the holidays, I can't pretend that this was a super magical holiday season, and quite frankly I'm ready to get back to normal life.
No wonder I declared war on my Christmas tree as soon as I got home from my mom's.

And also, I think I actually want to celebrate my birthday this year. Usually there is a big black X, on the calendar of my heart, over November 2nd. The more I think about it, the more I think I'm the one who's made it a miserable day for myself. It's not that I hate getting older, it's just that I hate my actual birthday. (my husband is not to blame at all, he's tried very hard, I just become Medusa for 24 hours between November 1st and 3rd) But hey! This year is my last year to turn an even number in my 20's! If that's not reason to celebrate, I don't know what is.
And it's kind of a big deal that I just told all of you what my birthday is. I once was that person who announced my birthday to everyone six months in advance, and on a daily basis in the month leading up to it. But then I realized how annoying that is and my birthday just kind of went.....thbp.
Y'all, I don't even have it on my Facebook page.

I'm really not sure what prompted that birthday tirade.

Since we're going random right now (how often does that happen on this blog?), let me tell you about my personal "a ha" moment that I had this weekend. And I'm not talking about singing "Take On Me" at the top of my lungs. Although that has happened. Multiple times. Moving on, as Mike and I sat sharing a glorious bowl of queso, which had ground beef and guacamole enclosed (I know, I KNOW!), I said to my Michael, I said "I think I crave chips and queso more than anything." And it's true. It is my own personal kryptonite. I don't know how many times I pick a Mexican restaurant because all I really want is chips and queso. I just might give a kidney for a delicious helping of chips and queso. Also, it better be the really good, really thin restaurant style of tortilla chips. Like the ones sitting open on my employer's kitchen counter as we speak (I don't know what they were thinking leaving those out where I can see them). Or like the ones I ate last night, sprawled all over sitting on the couch, re-watching episodes of "Downton Abbey." People, it's starting again in a couple of weeks. I hope that you're getting ready. You might not find out the outcome of World War I unless you watch. In the meantime, you can come over to my place and I can catch you up on it like I did with Mike last night, who was deeply interested by the way.

Me - "Do you see those two?"
Mike - "Yes?"
Me - "Well they are bad news. And he's gay but he flirts with that girl because he knows William likes her."
Mike - (what I can only imagine is interested silence)
Me - "Do you understand what this money problem is that they're talking about? See, their cousin died on the Titanic, and Mary can't inherit the money because she's a girl but the mom's dowry is in it and Mary isn't in love with her other cousin who is the new heir. That one we just saw eating breakfast with his mom. Remember? Mike did you see them eating breakfast?"
Mike - (still DEEPLY interested silence, the only thing holding back his enthusiasm was that he was working on his website)

In conclusion, from now on, when I wash sheets, I will just "leave them in a pile" on the bed as if I had to run off and do something more urgent, and then when it's time to go to bed I'll "conveniently need to do something important" so Mike will have to put the sheets on the bed before going to sleep. And then I'll walk in and say "Oh! I was going to do that! Aren't you a sweetheart!" And then I will sleep peacefully on the perfectly positioned sheets.

It's what marriage is all about.