Merry Christmas

 

 

Accidentally Wes Anderson

Oy. Cold house, hot coffee, and a hangover. The perfect Christmas morning?  I made a mistake and ate some of that gummy candy someone sent to me.  That shit never hits you when it should, so I was tripping my brains out when I was brought out of a very deep sleep by a banging noise.  I thought it was outside, just some holiday hooligans or whatever.  I thought it would stop.  

It didn't. 

Coming a little bit more to consciousness, I realized that the noise was coming from the house.  It sounded like a raccoon was in the attic.  Jesus.  How in the hell would a raccoon get in up there?  

The intermittent banging would begin again after I fell back into my deep narcotic sleep.  

WTF?  I got out of bed on shaky legs, got a flashlight, and climbed my very dangerous pulldown stairs ten feet to the attic.  I flashed the light around in the dark expecting to see a badger or a wolverine.  I turned on the attic light and looked around.  No peering eyes, no low growls or hissing noises.  I left the light on.  Maybe that would keep the little fucker quiet.  Getting back down the stairs was no laughing matter.

Sometime later, I was awakened again.  And again.  It wasn't until much later I realized that the banging was coming from the awning over the outside bedroom door.  There was a storm outside.  The wind was really howling.  

I fell out of bed late, of course, blind to the day, stumbling to hit the coffee button.  Christmas Day. 

A white van pulled up yesterday and delivered a present.  What could this be, I wondered?  Who would be sending me anything?  I took it inside and opened it up, and with great anticipation unwrapped. . . my new aqualung!  Yay!  Just in time for Christmas!  

I put it on and snapped a selfie in the mirror.  "This one's for the Ladies!"

My mother and I exchanged presents last night.  I gave her a new iMac and told her I would set it up today.  Jesus.  I'm not sure I'm functioning that well.  It is not setting it up that is the problem, but I must mirror her old iMac onto the new one.  My hands are shaking, my vision is blurry.  I am not looking forward to concentrating.  

I must go over soon.  We are having Christmas dinner outside.  Fine.  It is forty degrees. May be fifty by the time we eat.  Coldest Christmas here on record, I think I heard.  Great.  Just fucking great.  

My mother told all the neighbors we were serving champagne again, so I had to make a last minute liquor store run to buy more.  I got myself a nice bottle of scotch while I was there.  Today, however, I am ready to quit drinking.  

Oh. . . when I stumbled into the daylight of the kitchen, the cat was at the door.  WTF?  I guess she wasn't eaten after all.  

And so. . . here's hoping for a better year, and a Merry Christmas to one and all.