O Come, All Ye Faithful…

So do you know what we did today?


I made a list that was roughly the size of what Santa has to deal with every single December, except I didn’t decorate that list with names like Sally and Jacob and Patricia over in Delaware.  Instead, I wrote things like SCRUB DOWN THE BATHROOM and VACUUM THE STAIRS and FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, LET’S GET THAT GARBAGE OUT OF THE KITCHEN BECAUSE YOUR BROTHER’S NASTY DIAPER IS STILL IN IT FROM YESTERDAY.

(Some people live in wicked awful conditions, apparently.  Who leaves a diaper that smells like bloated roadkill with a side of camel dung in the kitchen garbage for longer than a nanosecond?)

(Oh,  yes.)

(That would be us.)

No matter.

The boy and I were all business today, and we took care of some chores.  One of the items on the list was CHANGE THE SCENTSY WAX, because I think the last time we changed it, Clinton was still the president.

The boy, wanting something FUN AND EASY to check off of the list, opted to do this wax changing bit himself, and I was happy to let him.  He popped out the old, dry, doesn’t-smell-like-anything-except-air-any-longer wax, and then he picked new fragrances.

Rest assured, we have ourselves some fragrances.  Hubs always looks at the basket of Scentsy bars and says, “We could have fed an entire third world country pizzas with the amount of wax you have.”

And then that always makes me feel a bit materialistic, and so I vowed months ago to quit stealing purses from little old ladies to fund my wax-buying habit.

Or was it that Hubs simply said, “If you buy another smelly container full of colored wax, I’m buying new exhaust pipes for my truck.  They’ll be upright, along the sides of the cab, and they’ll be loud.  You’ll hear me driving up from two miles away, Bubbles.”

(For the record?)

(I have no idea why he calls me Bubbles.)

So yes.  There was that.  And I honestly haven’t bought wax for a long old while now, and I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because really?  Apparently we have stooped to a new low here at Jedi Mama, Inc., in which I tell you of my waxy issues.

(Just thank your lucky stars that we’ve got the topic of Scentsy wax on the table, and not the ear wax, because that’s almost as bad as a rotting diaper beneath your kitchen counters.)


…the boy chose some new scents, and HE PICKED…

wait for it

…Christmas-y scents.

I mean, why not?  It’s August.  It has been four hundred and sixteen degrees here all summer, until yesterday, when an Arctic blast came in and we had to wear sweatshirts.  And THAT is what made the boy select the Christmas tree wax, the Christmas Cottage wax, and the Hope and Joy wax, because FALL WAS IN THE AIR YESTERDAY, and FALL made him think of I KNOW I JUST HAD MY BIRTHDAY, BUT WHAT DO I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS NOW?

My OCD never lets me burn different smells throughout the house, because EWW!  I like our home to be on the same scent schedule, but the boy plunged in and chose different scents for our different melting pots, and suddenly we smelled exactly like a holiday brothel.

It was intense, people.

And then I found myself wanting to hum a few bars of “Deck the Halls,” while I folded laundry, and THAT HAD TO STOP!

I haven’t even bounced back from the boy’s birthday yet, so SWEET, GOOD MOTHER OF NEMO, THE ORANGE FISH!  I’m not dealing with Christmas yet!

And that, people, is what we did today.  I wish it was more interesting, but the honest truth is that our house has officially been dug out from Birthday Festivities ’12, and we seem to be back on track with life.  And that makes me happy, because we have been so busy the last week, with so many people coming and going and visiting, that my head keeps spinning.

And I don’t think I’m spinning and off-kilter any longer from Sister’s HANG ME UPSIDE DOWN AND KILL ME back-muscle-stretching-contraption.

No, sir.

But I’m pretty sure the head spins might be coming from breathing in the smell of freshly-cut Christmas trees all day.

Carry on, and y’all have a happy weekend.

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