There is no laziness rehab. Despite the myriad of conditions which can now be alleviated with a month’s visit to a private facility, there’s no place for the lazy gal to turn.
So though I tell myself that next year I’ll be better, next year I’ll plan ahead and cross people off my organized gift list, I have my doubts.
There’s no cure in sight.
Christmas is this weekend, just a few days away and I woke up this morning with no tree.
No sparkling lights or fuzzy Santas or carved nativity scenes.
And I started to despair.
I started thinking that maybe there’d be no 2019 Christmas tree.
Then I remembered my friends and our weekly Tuesday night gathering.
I remembered their weakness for pizza and manual labor requests.
Suddenly, I saw the light.
There could be a Christmas.
All it would take was a ham and pineapple pie resting by boxes of packed decorations.
Then we gathered together and ate and listened to Love Actually play in the background while putting up my tree.
(I was, naturally, too busy photographing said actions to do any of the physical work.)
(But isn’t memory recorder the toughest job of all?)