Merry Christmas! You'll get your presents when you get 'em.
The merry holiday has now come and past, and although the majority of it was spent sitting in a chair in the cardiac care unit (CCU) it was quite nice. Not because I had a great time with my nieces and nephews -- I haven't seen them in some time and am not sure they even still exist -- but because for once, for whatever reason, I felt a little grateful. Now I have always known I am blessed beyond merit, but infrequently have I felt it. I am not sure what to attribute it to but my suspicions are Wilford Hall's ghetto rooftop Christmas tree or BAMC's military issue eggnog. In either case I did not terribly mind working or being alone for the navidad. Plus how can you complain when your friends give you Lyme Disease?
Season sentiments aside, let's get to the point of Christmas and to the point of this post: presents. Man were they a disaster. Although Amazon and its various retailers did their jobs well, I, in my job as distribution center ring leader, did not. I barely got everything wrapped and boxed by the evening of the 20th, but did not make it to Fedex in time for the evening shipment thanks in part to the incredible complexity of stuffing a Mini Cooper with enormous boxes and partly because I may or may not have run someone over on my blind side. I'm pretty sure it was a roll of carpet. The boxes were shipped out successfully the next morning of course, but successfully to the wrong addresses. Adam and Ashlee got a Christmas surprise of other people's presents and my sister's family in Hawaii will be delighted to find out the box they receive sometime in February in fact needs to be immediately repackaged and reshipped. I am sure in every case, however, that their real present was hearing my voice over the phone on Christmas day. Mine, of course, was giving Lucca 11 lbs of candy legos. And possibly diabetes.
No comments:
Post a Comment