I kept my hopes up all through Christmas Eve. I didn’t give up when I woke up and there wasn’t a new car in the driveway. I kept the faith and KNEW that Santa would be driving up in my black IS 350 Lexus convertible at any time.
(Any minute now. . .)
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And slowly my spirits were dashed against those Christmas rocks of reality. I hadn’t been that depressed since General Mills stopped making Sprinkle Spangles breakfast cereal.
(“Spangled every angle with sprinkles!”)
So I stayed in bed all day Monday trying to figure out what I had done, what sin I had committed, that would keep Santa from giving me my Lexus. In no particular order, I:
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Threw a fit when I lost at Rack-O. Also, tennis, Clue, Chutes and Ladders, and Memory. (My 3-year-old granddaughter cheats.)
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Wore white after Labor Day.
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Didn’t return my overdue library book until I finished it.
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Told my grandkids the SpongeBob SquarePants channel was broken.
(WAAAYYY too much intensity. Tone it down, Bob.)
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Told my grandkids my TV was broken.
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Didn’t give $1 to the homeless guy by the freeway
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Ate all the cookie dough and blamed the dog
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Stayed on the elliptical longer than my alloted 35 minutes. (How can I lose weight in 35 minutes?!?)
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Watched YouTube videos about kittens instead of working.
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I didn’t think these sins were particularly nasty–especially when there were LOTS of things I WANTED to do–but didn’t. But I guess they added up to one big empty driveway. Starting today, or maybe next week, I’ll be good.








