Warning: I don’t anticipate this post being good. Or particularly interesting. You’ve been warned.
Right now I am supposed to be decorating gingerbread and making chocolate-covered pretzels. But it’s been a long damn week and I’m tired, and I’ll find time later. Tomorrow. Saturday night. Sometime before Tuesday.
I made myself a caramel cider (mug of cider, dash of cinnamon, glob of Smucker’s Hot Caramel Sundae Topping; heat up) and am thinking about watching a movie. But it’s almost 10pm. So, Iron Chef for now. I watched Love Actually again the other day. I hate that I love that movie. It’s such a freaking chick flick. With an excellent soundtrack.
My Christmas tree is leaning forward. It did the same thing last year, but I think last year I managed to stabilize it. This time I’m resorting to a nearly ineffective shim. I think it’s something about the carpet, or the floor, or nothing to do with the tree itself. It’s annoying but it probably won’t fall over.
I went on the homepage and saw the thing for putting “snow” on your blog. So I activated it, and it was temporarily cute, but once the little “snowflakes” hit the words, parts of letters start to blink out and it gets annoying. Not so much.
Part of what made this week so damn long was the amount of singer-drama I had to put up with. Surprise rehearsals and last-minute rearrangements and oh-didn’t-I-tell-yous and wrong-time/wrong-place and she’s-really-going-onstage-wearing-that and do-you-really-think-you’re-going-to-jury-without-rehearsing-with-me-once and all that sort of thing. I was offered the chance to play for almost half a studio today. Of all theater students. No, thank you. I just cannot do it. I just can’t deal with… any of it. The music, the singers, the sound, can’t. Sorry.
At this point, anything else I write will plummet this entry into a “dear diary” (where it’s dangerously dangling already) and I’d rather not. I like to pretend I have some integrity.