I got sleep last night. It apparently helps to restore equilibrium in this crazy little world of mine. Depression always makes me sleepy. It's pretty intense. It's a lousy survival mechanism in my opinion. "Things suck. Okay, well, lets sleep on it because that always fixes things." On the other hand, it's not drinking or smoking or swearing, so my mom can't get after me for it. That's always nice.
So, today is a half-day for the kids. I need to run to the bank. I need to pretty-please a friend into printing out a phrase for the bottom of a bizarre etched snowman scene I did on glass yesterday. I still haven't tackled Christmas cards really. Partridge--pear tree. Actually, as T would say, "A cartridge in a pair of trees." Twelve days of Christmas can be both humorous and awful in his tiny, genius hands. Tonight is our church's Christmas party. I should figure out something to bring. I wasn't sure if we'd be in town still, so I didn't sign up for anything. I'm thinking of something chocolatey--which would be easy, but create the quandary of not being able to eat it.
First things first, I need a shower so people don't think I've crawled out from under a rock. I haven't written anything at Flashy Fiction this week either. I'm a writing slacker. I might still mosey that way and punch out some things later, though.