That is quite a rough title for the days after Christmas but it always seems to have that feel to it. I don’t want to speak for everyone (so not true), but there really are some cominalities to a funeral. Planning planning planning. Event. Day is done and everyone leaves you to pick up the pieces. Literal pieces. My beast was living large. Chewing everything that fell to the floor. But he didn’t swallow weak sauce. All the wee dearests toys had lots-oh-wee parts that needed chewed up. And spit out. I felt hunched over all day trying to open the jaws of life to recover the sword or bow or poinsettia leaf. Should have rethought that last one. I did make a fabulous meal I must say. I did make a fabulous meal. Took awhile to figure out where the oven was and how it works but I had help. Thank you Google. But….now I’m left with half eaten casseroles that are no longer simmering but look like sticks of butter. Baked goods with bites out of. (Sorry). Half full bottles of wine that are taking up room in the fridge and forcing me to day drink. And the body is barely cold. Now to lighten the mood #daydrinking. I was trying to somewhat balance how much I gave my wee dearests so they wouldn’t feel slighted. I try to keep it simple because Santa has their number big time. But somehow I forgot size matters. Somehow. And so it wasn’t the Amount of gifts, but one dearest got Bigger gifts. I forgot to measure! Not like me. So now I sit with my box of Kleenex looking at my round tree which is what happens when you get one in the pouring rain a week before Christmas with a vast selection of three. On a good note it was only twenty bucks and I won’t feel bad when I throw that carcass out. The worst season of the year is looming and I know it will hit me hard. Diet season blows but it’s part of the recovery process. You just have to suck it up and get through it. Time to build a better boat. Shalom