All I want for Christmas is…

A boring day. Seriously. I don’t want to have to put out any and all manner of fires at work. I don’t want to post anybody’s bail (oh how I wish I was kidding on THAT one). I don’t want to have to do laundry so I have enough clean underpants to get through the week. I don’t want to sit in traffic. I don’t want to come screaming into the bank and piss off the nice lady who sets up the accounts by making her stay 12 minutes late. I don’t want to run errands, go grocery shopping or make a Costco run. Nope. I want to sleep till noon without worrying if the kittens are hungry. I want to live in my groovy new SNC flannel jammy pants and no bra. I want to stare mindlessly at NCIS or Law And Order reruns while spinning or knitting myself stupid. I want to sip a hot cup of blueberry tea from my Curious George mug with a pile of kittens settled in for a long winters nap. And I want to sleep through the night without dreaming I’ve driven my car off a bridge, into a lake and literally wake up gasping for air.

Remind me again how I can survive anything as long as I know it’s only temporary because mondays give me a serious case of the twitches.

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