Last night, as soon as I hit publish on my Lurve Sweet Lurve post, strange and unexpected things began happening.
I jest you NOT!
It was late and the house was slumbering peacefully. I closed my laptop and took the ethernet cable out of my ear before drifting off to sleep.
SUDDENLY! I was startled awake by an enormous cacophony of sound. What the helk? I flipped on my lamp. My mirror mirror on the wall had come crashing to the floor of it's own accord. Oversized. Wooden framed. Sturdy. Totally down for the count.
Trembling and bleary eyed, I crept out of bed to see if it had cracked so I could plan my next 7 years accordingly. I somehow managed to knock a broken printer from it's resting place and it landed on my foot, scraping the skin of my shinny shin shin on it's way down.
OOOOWIE! It made me bite my tongue in agony.
Thank heavens the mirror wasn't cracked, but isn't it a strange coincidence that a literal mirror would literally fall just as I'm trying to metaphorically transcend myself?
Bad omen? Good omen?
As soon as I laid back down to rest, the most ear shattering eye popping blasts began outside my townhouse haven window. Fireworks, no doubt, because it's New Years season, but I could have been in a war zone.
No sparkle , just BAM! BAM! BAM! One right after the other. I was jumping out of my skin. Even my son came racing into my room in a start of heart failure.
As soon as my heart stopped pounding out of my chest and I was settled back into the silence, I was acosted full force by a swarm of monstrous mosquitos straight from the dark side. They were stinkin' spiteful, not to mention rude and ill-tempered. All night long they feasted off my flesh and blew rasperries at me in my ear.
When I awoke I asked my family how they had survived the mosquito masacre and they were like, "what mosquito masacre?"
It's enough to make a poor dummy start murmuring again.
Do you think the ghost of Christmas past is trying to keep me from sharing the lurve of Christmas future?
Should I be frightened?
Should I cancel my sharing the lurve sweet lurve week and forget about transcending myself? Should I go back to inhaling whipped cream from a can and wagging my tongue rudely?
I confess it's tempting.
This is my dilemma.
I tried to be good today. I cooked my heart out for sistahs in my ward with new babies and surgeries and bad backs and heart aches. I tried to spread the lurve with a quadruple batch of rolls, but I must admit I almost started singing that one Police song while my MIL was watching me roll them out. You know the one about not standing so close to me.
But don't worry about me. You guys just go on ahead and have a happy new year. Party like a rock star. I'll work this out on my own. I would be partying too except I only made one New Year's resolution and that was to take my blog responsibilities more seriously. So, yea, don't mind me, I'll just be here sorting through my options.
ANYWHO . . . as my mom always said when she sent us out the door to party like a rock star on New Year's Eve, "See ya next year!"