Isn't it pretty? Yes. Lovely. But each year, when December 1st rolls around, it feels more like a shark attack. I get the feeling that this beautiful Advent house is perfectly capable of disemboweling me, leaving me writhing on the floor, desperately clutching at the air.
My husband's mother gave it to my daughter four years ago. She had it all filled and ready to go. My daughter loved it. When "Baba" laughingly told me that I would be filling it up the following year, I was excited. It was going to be fun.
My daughter hates chocolate. She does not need anymore of those little plastic Hallmark ornaments (not that she needed any to begin with). Most little trinkets I buy for this thing are just an eighth of an inch too big in one direction to fit in. No. She does not need any more hairclips (but they do fit nicely).
Today is December 1st. Not one single little compartment has been filled.
This damn thing has disemboweled me once again.
I did have a plan to go out and buy some bits and pieces today. My plans are falling down around me. I'm waiting by the phone for my mother to call me from the hospital. Ice has begun falling from the sky. I'm not feeling the least little bit festive.
Plan B. Look under sofa cushions for change and lost items that will fit behind those teeny, malevolent doors.
(actually, I am terrified to go out. I don't know what will happen to me or those around me if I hear the smallest snippet of that First Day of Christmas song.
I see myself as an artist. Others see me as a housewife. Too often, I see the glass as half-full. With a crack in it. I am usually a quiet, shy person. This is the place where I can be my inner, not-so-quiet self.
This blog is for entertainment (mostly mine) purposes only. If you find a mistake, falsehood, or blatant lie, please feel free to inform me, ever so gently, of my error.