goes the weasel

January 22, 2010

Tomorrow I’m going to my uncle’s family birthday party, mostly so that I can give my grandmother her Christmas presents (I am a bad granddaughter) and my little sister her eighteenth birthday presents (!!! and I will kick your ass). This is all fine and dandy, and I love my uncle also although I scarcely know him, but I have just realized that I have no damn idea where my grandmother’s Christmas presents are. One would think that various small brightly gift wrapped items would not be so easily lost in such a little apartment, but the thing about being myself and living with Holly, who is always very much herself, is that there is so crazy much crap jammed into every available square inch of space (we have not yet attempted to annex the ceiling, but if a good option for doing so was presented us I’m sure we would jump at it) that finding anything smaller than a piece of furniture is always something of a hassle. Add to this that I haven’t seen or thought about my grandmother’s Christmas presents for over a month, and the problem becomes even more complicated. There are any number of ‘safe’ and ‘usual’ places that I leave things before I forget about them, and I have checked most of these places, but really when you get right down to it these places fairly much encompass the entire apartment, and OMG MY GRANDMA IS EXPECTING PRESENTS. Head: pop!

I have quit smoking many moons ago, (I know, we are all so weary of hearing me talk about it), and I have recently given up smoking certain other things as well, so as to have as sharp a mental acumen as is possible for my upcoming state tax exam (worst four word phrase ever), and so I have been hitting the wine bottle a bit copiously of late. It’s nothing very terrible, I am still on the same bottle of wine that I started last Sunday, but I do tend to sip slowly out of a tiny little wasp wineglass, and if the truth be told there is only about a wasp wineglass and a half left in this bottle. The point of this confession is that I doubt the wine goggles are improving my abilities to search and deploy in any adequate manner, and I am now genuinely worried about the realistic possibilities of my finding these Christmas presents in time. Worry worry worry. Need wine. Cycle cycle cycle repeat. Head: pop!


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