Last night was one of those frazzled evenings, so common this time of year. (Maybe when I stop working full-time I’ll enjoy Christmas again, like I used to when I was a kid.) After work, I ran to the grocery store to buy food for the two Christmas parties we’re throwing this weekend at our house. (We volunteered for one party and got signed up for another one . . . not that I’m complaining, though, ‘cuz it’ll be fun.) After about an hour at the grocery store, I headed home. Immediately after stepping out of the car, I tripped over some long, sharp (not-sure-what-the-name-of-it-is) tool lying in the garage that was haphazardly left for Amy to booby-trap herself on. (Kevin tells me, often, that if I would just slow down things like this wouldn’t happen. I always retort that it’s really difficult to break 25+ years worth of a very bad habit.) Although my foot felt like it had been impaled, I managed to limp over to the trunk where I began to collect the bags of groceries. As I proceeded to back away from the trunk, would you know it, I struck the top of my head against the lid of the trunk, and, like so aptly depicted in the cartoons, began to see little swirling stars. By this time, I figured it just wasn’t my night.
Fortunately the evening got better as it progressed. For some odd reason, last night I was cold and Kevin was warm. Usually it’s the other way around. Usually he’s shivering and his teeth are clattering while I’m burning up. (Don’t you love it how opposites attract?) I finally asked Kevin if I could turn the heater up. I asked because I wanted to be courteous of the fact that he’d just paid a very high electric bill. He told me “yes” (of course) but then we got in a little playful war over exactly how high I could turn it up. It was at 64 degrees and I pushed it up to 68 degrees. He walked over to the thermostat to inspect it and decided that it should be at 66 degrees (and I should get a sweater on). I then looked woefully at him and said, “Mr. Scrooge, please just one coal for the fire?” Then we both burst out laughing as I ran upstairs to get a sweater. (I suppose I should have done this in the first place.)
We thought about watching It’s a Wonderful Life (my favorite movie) last night – just because it seemed like a very Christmasy thing to do – but then decided to read aloud from Bears of Blue River instead. Part of this decision probably stemmed from the fact that we’d already watched a movie sometime this past week. We watched Meet the Parents. I’d seen it before but Kevin hadn’t. A co-worker of his was surprised he hadn’t seen it and loaned it to us. I personally think this movie is absolutely hysterical. Kevin, on the other hand, is too sympathetic a person to completely enjoy a movie like Meet the Parents. During the entire debacle, he was empathizing with Greg Focker and feeling very badly for him. I must be some heartless little brute because I was laughing through it all.