ok. so no Nog. But my husband's 94 Year-Old great aunt DID bring Budweiser. AH-MAY-ZING!
Christmas morning found me clutching my head and screwing my eyes as tightly shut as possible. No, I didn't over indulge the previous evening, but reindeer in the roof and a chubby old man couldn't have pounded louder than my throbbing head. For once, I fell asleep in bed, and was anticipating a wondrous night of fluffy mattress heaven, only to find myself in a worse predicament than a hangover PLUS the nefarious couch. fml
But seriously, I was disheartened to hear my intrepid son tearing into the Christmas gifts but lacking the fortitude to race to the revelry. "Honey, " I mumbled - "Please go stop the youngling before he tears into everything" Fortunately for me, I have the best husband ever, and he clamored out of bed to tend the wee-one as I scrubbed my eyes and looked for painful purchase on the floor.
After present-ing, I climbed back into bed for a little shuteye, and hopefully a respite from this pounding headache that was mocking my Christmas Jubilation right up its goat-ass.
The day got progressively better, and by nightfall, I was pretty amped to go see Avatar... (more on this later)
its the day after Christmas, also known as Boxing Day but better known as the Hubby's Birthday! (the poor poor man) to be followed by the Brother's Birthday, capping of a neverending stream of Birthdays and Holidays that torture me from Thanksgiving to Christmas.
And I wonder why I get migraines.
Listening to: Jack Johnson - Flake