Cats, Christmas, and crass introspection

Last night as we were leaving Hobby Lobby I spied the Petco a few doors down and mentioned that Petco has discount Christmas gifts and that I'd like to get one for my dog some time (I'd also like to get one for my cat but I know that she'd end up falling asleep on it, eating it, or completely ignore it since that's all she ever does) and Scot said, "Do you want to go in and see if they have any kittens?" You don't ask a compulsive overeater to go in to McDonalds to see if they have any hamburgers and you certainly don't ask a once and future crazy cat lady if she wants to go look at kittens unless you have a couple of days to waste. Unfortunately Petco doesn't have kittens on site because Petco is not Petsmart so I looked at cat beds and cat collars and cat food and cat toys and picked up a pamphlet on cat adoption instead. It was a bitter trade-off.

On the home front Stefanie put up the Christmas tree last night which made me want to bust out my Santa figurine and my A&M stocking but in an incredible display of self-contol I settled for a sugar cookie-scented candle because I figured "sugar cookie" was more universal than "boughs of holly" or "tinseled branches".

He who said "it's the most wonderful time of the year" definitely wasn't lying. I might be mistaking "this damned semester is finally over!"-euphoria for holiday cheer, but I seriously doubt that. I'm really looking forward to spending time with my family, buying and wrapping presents, baking until I have to get my fat pants out of the garage sale closet, and being immersed in seasonal sights, smells, and sounds. Really, it's impossible for me to express how excited I am about Thanksgiving and Christmas in writing, which probably doesn't bode well for my future as a writer, but maybe the kind of holiday enthusiasm that affects a girl who feels like her prospects couldn't be any more perfect would be impossible for even the most creative English major to articulate.