I’m not sure if it’s possible for me to have more to do between now and Christmas Eve, but I’ve decided to take it in stride.
I’m lying. I’m freaking. And I’m taking it out on everyone.
Right now, our main priority is whipping the apartment into shape for Christmas Day, since we’ll be hosting dinner for the woman’s family. I’m not really worried about the food aspect, because one way or another, that’ll get done. What’s concerning us is that our apartment is more of a place that should be studied than occupied, and trying to get it to the point where over a dozen folks can sit without setting off a chain reaction that will lead to some pointy statue falling off a shelf and killing someone is a serious challenge.
Whatever, we’ll get there. I still prefer hosting Christmas dinner to going somewhere else, because it justifies all the money and effort we pumped into decorating the house with ceramic Santas and festive tablecloths. Plus, it’s fun to drive the action. I like to play God. Perhaps I will spell “MERRY X-MAS” out on a large serving tray using nothing but prosciutto-wrapped breadsticks. And I’ll spend Christmas telling everyone not to eat them because I worked so hard on it.
A few of you have asked for a status report on my Chia Christmas Tree, and…UGH. I don’t know where I went wrong. I had such high hopes for this thing, but it just refused to sprout a full coat no matter what I did.
I have to take my share of the blame. I was so frantic about making my Chia grow correctly that I just wouldn’t stop doing stuff to it. I kept adding water, kept changing its lighting, kept moving it to warmer/colder areas — it was like a simple zit transformed into a volcanic lesion by my own hand. Had I just let the thing be, maybe it wouldn’t look like the jpeg attachment of an e-mail to Chia Headquarters, demanding a refund.
But it isn’t all bad. It certainly won’t be used as a table centerpiece, but it’s not like I need to hide the thing in fear of mass ridicule. Nobody has to know that it’s already lived a full life — I’ll just pretend that it’s still in its formative stage. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Formative stage.
It’s kinda symbolic of my Christmas season as a whole — overworked and messy, but still somehow pretty and peaceful. Or maybe I just refuse to shit on a Chia Pet that comes with a light-up Christmas star. You don’t burn bibles.
I’ll leave you with a little reading material from X-E’s Christmas past:
A Very Brady Christmas!
A Family Circus Christmas!
The Pac-Man Christmas Special!
The Ninja Turtles Christmas Special!
Happy SNT. I have muuuuch to doooo.
Posted by Matt. E-mail me!
Ghosted by 
I will tell you something that my friend’s father gave hr in a case of 12 for a Christmas present once. If it is the same thing Muppet Baby got, I will shit a brick from coincidence.
My friend lived in a tiny studio apartment in manhattan. She had a tiny couch, a tiny bed, and a tiny little table with one chair. She even had a wee tiny George Foreman Grill, so she could grill tiny burgers, and then throw them away because if she gained any weight she wouldn’t fit in her apartment.
So imagine her surprise when her father sent her a case of 12 crystal goblets for Christmas. As if she could ever host a formal dinner for 11 other people. I was there when she opened it, and goblet after goblet emerged from the packing peanuts, and my friend marvelled at the strangeness of the gift.