For my next trick, I’m attempting this holiday card nonsense. Writing and mailing them out, I mean.
So far, it’s going aight. That is alright minus the “L,” which means I’m barely hangin’ in there (leave off the last G for guessing how long I will last).
I did catch the end of The Sound of Music to replenish my stock of mushy+warm goodness in the ticker region to aid me in my writing of teeth-grittingly-saccharine summary messages of hope, cheer, and commentary on which pen I picked to write said friendship eulogy.
However, the fact that I want to put two days into each card and yet I just physically and mentally can’t, coupled with the grim reality that I can’t afford to make up the difference in crap note with over-the-budget-but-thoughtful gift, is enough to crack the faith of even the staunchest believer in the OCD religion.
Anyway, I’m thinking I will last through the A’s and then all bets are off. The pressure is ridiculous. Also, the family photo cards are questionably adorabullsheet, but if I did that, I would have to send a lithograph of me (a grown person) with my two even more grown parents behind my shoulders looking down at me disparagingly as I attempt to “hold” my life together in the form of a forced smile.
Who even likes getting carded?! I mean, sure, it’s flattering, but everyone dreads it. I mean holiday carded, for the vinyl.
photo courtesy of I Can Haz Cheezburger