Post Christmas Blues OR How the Cold of Doom Lingers On

So today I said to HIM, the man to whom I'm married, "When are we taking the Christmas decorations down?"  HIM responded with what can best be described as the grunt of extreme dismay.  "Urgglemapnerd," HIM said and fled for the sanctity of the bathroom.  Not that I blame HIM.  Who wants to take down all the pretty Christmas stuff?  It becomes non-Christmasy and yucky.  I mean the lights were pretty.  When they're gone, they're not pretty.  It's just blah.  Which means I want to leave the Christmas tree up year round.  (I knew someone who did this.  They decorated it seasonally.  But I am not Martha Stewart.  I don't think this is going to happen in this household no matter how pretty it is.  Also I will never learn how to fold the stupid fitted sheet, no matter how many times that DIY twat shows me how.)

And Martha Stewart appears to be the winning of
the who-will-fat-woman-eff-with-today
contest.
Congrats, Martha.

But honestly I don't feel like doing anything because the head cold that started around the middle of the month turned into sinusitis with a prelude to pneumonia.  Haha.  A little special Christmas gift for everyone.  I've taken like five naps today because I've been so sick.  So sick I don't want to write and I don't want to blog, either, but i don't want the blog to go unblogged for too long.  (People might talk.)  (This is how urban legends start.  "Did you hear that Fat Woman was decapitated by Michelle Obama when the fiscal cliff happened?  The Secret Service said she was really shopping at Target and photo-shopped it.")  (Am I getting in trouble for that?)

I pity da fool who didn't watch the A-Team back in the 80s.

Where am I going with this?  God alone knows.

Cressy believes that Santa is rocking.  The new Wii U is a blast.  She even bought herself a game with her allowance so she's totally into it.  HIM wants to race her in Mario Carts and Cressy just wants to play bumper cars with HIM so she can knock him off the racetrack.  Right now she's been on the Wii for about three hours straight.  I think her little butterbean butt is going to merge with the couch.  Outside is snow-sprinkles and HIM is teaching a group of high school kids how to make a rocket.  (Megaroy the moron cat fled for the security of the bed when the doorbell rang.)  I'm just hanging out coughing and hacking and generally trying to keep out of the way.

Hah, blumbug.

I'm making progress on the latest Cat Clan novella.  In fact, I should polish it off just as soon as I feel like writing the last two chapters.

What does this have to do with the blog?
Nothing, but I'm on a roll
and I feel like Michelle
needed to be kidded a little.
Plus I just took a big hit
of Nyquil.

Can you believe people are writing me emails that complain about the lack of progress in the romance department between Bubba and Willodean?  ("Move it along.  Let Bubba live a regular life.  I'm very disappointed.")  Does any of you remember when Sam finally got with Diane on Cheers and then no one wanted to watch the show any more?  Ditto with Moonlighting?  I mean once Maddie and David hooked up it was totally the end of business.  Now I'm trying to think of a comparable book reference and all that pops into my head is Archie and Betty.  (Wasn't Archie diddling with Veronica, too?  Even though she was a total bitch?  Doesn't that make Archie a playah?  Why, yes it does.)

Okay.  I'll stop rambling.  I can't think of anything else funny at the moment, except the hairball the cat just threw up resembles the country of Bolivia.  It might be a sign.

And apparently I can't let anything go.

Happy new year everyone.  May your sense of humor always be warped.