Truth be known – and I feel we may not be the only ones that feel this way – we suffered from a horrible condition known as Lack of Holiday Cheer (LHC).
LHC causes symptoms of under (or no) decorating, reduced urge to do Christmas shopping or baking, feeling extra grinchy and general Bah Humbug-ness. There are no known cures for LHC because, trust me, Bumble Mom subjected us to absolutely everything she could find to try and induce it. From cookie exchanges to holiday light viewing and judging to Christmas movie marathons, LHC remained.
Perhaps this year has been riddled with too much stress and sadness to properly remove the LHC toxicity from our bodies. Whatever the case, we are sorry that we failed you.
So. Here it is, December 1 again.
It’s the day the creepy af elves “fly” down from the North Pole to spy on kids for Santa so he knows who’s getting a bag of long grain rice in their stocking. Not that there’s anything wrong with Uncle Ben’s, mind you. I just imagine somewhere, some kid is gonna scream bloody murder if there is rice in their stocking.
Can…someone do that and report back to me? Let me know how that goes?
When the little creepy af elves come back to town, so does Naughty Bumble.
Our so I thought.
I woke up expecting something to be broken into, destroyed, mangled…something…but everything was perfect. The house looked just as I’d left it the night before. (Messy)
There was no Bumble to be found! Did he leave us? Go shack up with some North Pole bimbo that works, well, the pole?
Nope. The lazy bastard was still in his box. Sleeping.
Of course he was. I’m actually a little jealous.