I have not been quite myself this past week. I hate Christmas. I hate Christmas at the Home. I hate people who want to give me animals because I'm alone. I have a concrete budgie that needs painting and he's annoying me. Animals are needy even the concrete ones. I hate birds who get feed and watered every day but still eye off my teeny 4 tomatoes and my 2 teeny banana chillies.
I hate the heat. I hate being fat in the heat. I hate having my senses attacked by Christmas smells of puddings and cakes and mince pies. My Christmas stash consists of 4 mince pies, 2 minute microwave puddings, light thick cream (and I don't believe there is such a thing) and all natural, no added sugar frozen berries and one block of Lindt intense coconut. The Christmas bird is half a free range chicken and I will have roast potatoes if Coles have the low GI ones they're always boasting about but I can never find. This is not my Christmas Day, this is Boxing Day because you know where I'll be on the 25th, locked up with crazy old ladies 3 days from the full moon.
Tomorrow night is the Christmas Party. I hate the Christmas party.