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Last night I came home, ready to celebrate the season and enjoy my vacation, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but hubby all a-bed and trembling with fear...fear of wrapping presents, writing cards, cleaning/decorating the house. Or fear of my temper.

He explained that all week, while I've been at work, expecting him to do what he agreed to do (wrap, write, etc.), he's taken to his bed with the vapours (as the Victorians would have said) and done none of the above.

I might have known. The same thing happens every time, though I did have hopes this year would be different.

So today will be a flurry of grocery shopping, cleaning the house, putting up the decorations, writing the family's cards, calling on the phone to find out who is coming to dinner and which day, planning the menu (guess I should do that before shopping) and other fun entertainments.

The adrenaline is pumping, the tasks wait to be done.


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