Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Today I am grateful for little mysteries. When we got home from the Christmas Day celebration at our sons house, completely exhausted, there was a brown paper bag with two boxes inside on our porch. Just sitting there. Not ticking. Good thing. Because I was too tired to call 911. Blowing up would be easier.
By the time we got our stuff inside and organized, we were so tired we almost went to bed without opening those boxes. Almost.
Someone had delivered two gorgeous mugs with Himself and Herself printed on them. I didn’t have my glasses on so I said, “What a shame. They forgot the “L” on both of them.” Yeah, well, Himself handed me a pair of glasses so I could notice the clever way it was printed.
They are great. We love them. We can’t wait to have “good shit” in them. But, although I have my suspicions, I want to know who the Secret Santa is. Be it a secret no more. Little mysteries become frustrations. Confess. Now! (Oh, and thank you!)