I honestly am having a difficult time coping with the insane speed time is flying by. Thanksgiving JUST HAPPENED. Yet somehow I’m leaving for my British Christmas a week from tomorrow. My niece’s baby shower is this weekend. I get to tell the whole world this baby is a girl baby when I have my ultrasound next week. (Okay, so maybe my other half still thinks it’s a boy baby, only ONE OF US can be right.) I’m almost halfway through this cooking phase of parenthood. HALF. WAY. I’ve gotten only 40% of my Christmas shopping done.

All this is happening so incredibly fast I can barely keep up.

I was sick over the past couple of days. While this kind of sick could usually be patched up with a couple of vicodin and a swig of DayQuil and a shot of Pepto, my desire to not want to birth a crack baby meant I had to settle for rest and fluids. REST AND FLUIDS. Like it’s the year 1623. The rest was nice, but I couldn’t DO anything but that. No catching up on bills or writing Christmas cards or online shopping or writing or cleaning the house or organizing or ANYTHING. I did manage to catch up on every Big Bang Theory episode in existence, though. So there’s something.

I saw The Nutcracker on Friday. And being completely unfamiliar with it (no, really.) I had no idea what I was in for. A friend of mine asked me if I wanted a brief summary before I went in but I decided to go in cold.

Which meant I left completely bewildered at what the hell I had just seen. WHERE WERE ALL THE NUTCRACKERS? What was up with that giant woman? Why go through all plot building that with the weird uncle in the beginning if you were never going to revisit it again?

Oh, okay. LOTS OF DANCING.

Where in the hell did the mice come from? Why were they fighting soldiers? Was this commentary on the French Revolution? (Nope. Wrong musical.)

OH MY GOD THERE’S SO MUCH DANCING.

And then the end? They just straight up JR Ewing-ed that ending with, “Oh hai! Just a dream y’all!”

Snarl.