And Christmas is Stolen Away

Well, thank wickedness. Anne Elisabeth finally finished her wretched deadline! I was beginning to wonder if I would ever have an opportunity to write again. Every time I got anywhere near the computer, Anne Elisabeth was all, "No, Minerva Louise, Mommy needs to work now."

Proving how delusional she is. I mean, really. Mommy?

Anyway, she's finished up that deadline and now spends her time frantically vacuuming up all clumps of fur I have graciously left around the house. She says that I shed in tumbleweeds and it's atrocious. I say she should talk. She and that Thing with all its shaggy coat. Not to mention the Minion. I am certainly not the only one who sheds in this house! Wretched Anne Elisabeth.

Speaking of wretched, do you know what she did? Do you? She STOLE CHRISTMAS!

She does it every year, and every year, I express my displeasure, and she does it anyway. She takes all those wonderful dangly ornaments off the Christmas tree, forces my darling Rohan to haul the tree outside, thereby ruining my very favorite of all time napping spots and bereaving life of all true comfort.

I tried to tell her. And when she piled up some wreaths and the bag with the Christmas table cloth and quilt on the cedar chest, I made it very plain that I did not want her to take them down to the basement.

I mean, how much plainer can a resident dictator be? Wherever Christmas is, that's my favorite napping spot! Is this difficult to understand?

Apparently. She took it all away. And she seems to think she did right.

Oh, well. I have satisfaction in knowing at least that Rohan was on my side. It was he, in fact, who insisted they keep everything up until January 6th. Maybe next year he'll get her to keep it even longer. We'll see . . .

Still, one does start to wonder who's boss around here.

I hope, faithful readers, to enthrall you all with my writerly wit more often in the near future. In the meanwhile, purrs!