December 24th, 2008

sam working

feck the halls

Sign me up for the bah humbug club (especially as Bob Crachit here is working over Xmas again). I'll be out in the yard tonight with my barrage balloons, spotlights, spotters guide and guns, I can tell you.

Still, despite crashing servers and everyone deciding to clear out their inboxes by dumping everything into mine at work, things have been accomplished. I have a tree, of sorts, up, though its bareness distresses me still. We bought some new, nuclear, Xmas lights to string up. They're LED ones, which I find way too bright but Himself loves. I guess I'm a warm glow gal, while he's a cold hard halogen man (the house lights are half n half, in case you were wondering).

The house is also clean-ish. I'd not been too fussed as it was only supposed to be us two and our cold tin of spam but some folks I thought was 15,000+km away are unexpectedly coming over so it was the old spray and wipe ad going on all Sunday, and for those who are unfamiliar with the ad, think of the sudden alarm when the hero is spotted striding up the drive in any Austen tv drama. Only this was far less genteel. More Top Gear than Jane Austen, alas, and I was in full Captain Calamity mode. A personal best for breakages, as Himself shrewishly observed. Well, this is why I'd not mucked in before, because I knew I was overtired and disaster prone. Oh well, and yea, verily, the neighbourhood echoed with the sounds of crashing and swearing.
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