So my mom was extremely productive while (why do I feel that this should be “whilst”?) she was here.
She told me that bath towels were not correct for towel-drying hands. You should use hand towels. I fought this until I had no fight left in me. I know it’s not the correct use for a bath towel, but I like being able to really grab on and submerge my hands in the towel. I don’t like to feel the ends of the towel or keep doubling back. What can I say? I’m time-efficient. Well, I was. Now, I have tiny hand towels hanging on the towel racks. Tiny. I feel like a giant in comparison. Maybe if mom had fingers half as fat as mine are, she would understand. But alas.
She also made me do something about those hideous toss pillows I had lying on the couches. I know, they’re disgusting. Oh, you don’t know? Here – here’s the carnage:
And the replacements:
And she took me to Costco. Not only did she take me and Amber there, but she bought us a membership. Well, you know what they say: Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. A Costco club card? I’m such an adult. I never thought I’d see the day.
We shopped and we ate out and we made each other laugh with our own little stupidities. She took my coupon cutting to a whole new level by opening a store credit card for an extra 30% off. She bought me and Amber our Christmas presents. And now, I feel like decking the halls. I bought some stockings that I’m just dying to hang on our new fireplace. I’ve never had a Christmas in my own home before. Maybe this is the year we train Tucker not to eat the ornaments off our tree. Probably not, but either way: we have our own home, families that love us, and a tiny little family of our own.
Happy Holidays, indeed.