I've been about to bust, wanting to decorate the house for Christmas. My rule is not until at least the day after Thanksgiving. I wouldn't even allow myself to open the bags of Christmas themed candy before the designated date, seeing as how it's a rule and all.
So, yesterday, I gathered up the dish that holds that Christmas candy and proceeded to wipe down the outside, as some grime had collected. While I'm doing that, I'm talking. To the dish. "Do you think that's clean enough now? Whatcha thinkin? Are you excited to get filled with candy?"
I know. Odd, right? Not so much when you consider that the second I'd filled that dish with candy, set it down, and turned my back, it called me. BY.NAME. Like, "Liiiisa...pppsssttt...aren't you excited to try some of the Christmas themed candy? So what if it's regular candy dressed in pretty Christmas clothes, isn't it pretty?" Which led me to try a piece...and about eight more. Epic diet fail here. Because of a freaking talking candy dish? What the heck?
On another note, I was looking forward to the living room looking as if the Hallmark store threw up in it and I experienced nothing but glee on that front. Adding to the excitement, I realized that I have enough boxed Christmas cards for about the next four years. Evidently, I had a great time at the going out of business sale at my Hallmark store last year.
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