Tis the night before Christmas and the house is finally quiet.
The tree is blinking like it’s about to give up, there’s wrapping paper everywhere, and I’m sitting on the floor questioning why I thought last-minute shopping was a personality trait.
The cookies for Santa are mysteriously missing, the milk is gone, and honestly I’m starting to suspect Santa looks a lot like me.
I tell myself I’ll clean up in the morning, which is a lie I’ve told every year.
If Santa’s watching, I hope he respects the effort.
My stake id: dangerrfn
