Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Happy Solstice. Can we please have spring now?

At what other time of year is one willing to pick up and eat any old random cookie or candy or handful of caramel corn that happens to be left unattended around the office?

I have been nibbling my way through this day and was well into yet another homemade caramel-y chocolate-y something when it occurred to me that I had no idea who had made it or where it came from. For all I knew, it could have been laced with arsenic. Or boogers.

And these are the visions of sugarplums that dance in my head on this, the day of the darkness that never ends.

I miss the sun. I would like it back, please.

In addition to my ill-advised snacking, I made another poor, poor choice today by attempting over my lunch hour to exchange the sweater I bought for Demigoddess the Younger to wear on Christmas. I was just going to “run in” to the mall and do a “quick” exchange.

Sometimes my stupidity astounds even me.

But soon, all will be well, for I will be spending this evening with my sisters and sister cousins, who are all but one in town for the holidays. We will drink alcohol and eat excellent food and sing along with our favorite Christmas songs, but not “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” which my sister Molly calls “the date rape song,” because Tiffany works in a non-profit sexual violence crisis center and she is not a person one wants piss off.

Because she is exactly the type who would put arsenic in the cookies.


Tiffany said...

I resent that! I don't even know where to get arsenic.

But I'm glad someone else thinks of that song as the date rape song even though the lyrics "say what's in this drink?" predate Rohypnol.

Amy said...

I like winter. Sorry. The sun can stay down at 5 p.m. all year long.

Dawn said...

HEY! I thought I was the only one in the world that called that song the "Date Rape Song" , or we could just call it "No Means Yes!"

And I just roll office food on the bathroom floor, so no arsenic, but plenty of staph

esg's ho said...

Well, as long as Tiffany doesn't put arsenic in the really hot Seattle-baked mini-cupcakes, all is cool. And to everyone grazing their way through work today, I am one of you.