Skip to main content

Number Nine

23The ninth day of Christmas, and I'm peaved. I was so excited to see a Fran's Chocolates bag, and so disappointed to find out that five out of nine were dark. I don't like dark chocolate!

I know, I know, I'm terribly ungrateful, and I'm not proud of myself. On the contrary, I'm ashamed of my attitude. I fully understand that I am not owed anything. I know full well the consequences of ingratitude. I am lucky that my husband visits me as much as he does, much less brings me gifts, tacky or not.

And still, I was powerless to stop my train wreck to crazy town. Nevermind, that I am worn out by well-meaning caregivers. Some days one after the other, for everything I must do in a day. By the time he shows up, I'm done with patience, tolerance, and kindness. If I ever ever even woke up with any...

Oh, admit it, nobody always awakens joyful and happy. I woke up happy then I had a bad hair moment. Here is the most recent installment of Tina's Twelve Day of Christmas...
♪ On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Nine Fran's dark chocolates, eight Christmas crackers, seven cotton candies, six bags of kisses, five red heart ornaments, four rein-dogs poopin', three chocolate Santas, two red poinsettias, and a glass pickle to hang in the tree. ♪
I shall count myself lucky if I do not get coal chunks tomorrow.
Labels:
Location: 2720 E Madison St, Seattle, WA 98112, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Creep

  Have you ever used the internet to look up an old flame? How about an old arch-enemy? Did you have the intention to reconnect? Me neither.
Post a Comment
Read more

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my
3 comments
Read more