And so begins my season of hibernation.
Until about January 6, I have no plans of leaving the house. I will mail-order my toilet paper and milk, walk outside to my chicken coop to get some eggs, curl up with my babies and watch Frosty the Snowman on the couch.
But I am not leaving.
I will not be fighting with the large lady with the cane and motorized scooter at Walmart over the last package of canned pumpkin. I will not be standing in line at Target for four hours to buy Evie a Zhuzhu hamster, orwhatevertheheckthey'recalled.
I will not be joining my crazy, over-the-top, chicken-farming husband at 4 am on Black Friday. $10 off a circular saw just isn't worth battling an angry, sweaty, greedy mob of Christmas cheer.
Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas. But running with these bargain-crazy, credit-card toting, New-Jersey-driving (sorry) in a sweaty, over-crowded mall where "Feliz Navidad" is playing on repeat at eardrum-bursting levels--- just makes me want to come home, curl up on my changing table and go to sleep. Like this girl: