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Dec. 29th, 2003 04:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaBefore leaving for Christmas, I reprogrammed the weekday and Saturday settings on our thermostat, leaving the Sunday settings intact. I felt very clever yesterday when we came back to a warm house.
I felt much less clever this morning when it took me an entire hour to realize that the reason why the house seemed colder than usual was because I hadn't reprogrammed the weekday settings.
I feel like I was gone much longer than six days. A lot happened: Christmas; a birthday; extended emotional drama; a family medical crisis; the Movie That Dares Not Speak Its Name; anticipation; disappointment; triumph; tears; Scrabble tournaments; pin the horn on the unicorn; ornaments gone scandalously missing; a long slog uphill in the woods, through mud, running water, and snow; preparations for incipient blindness; fine housewares; six kinds of Christmas cookies; a teapot-tempest over whether we should still have beef for Christmas dinner; a seven year old girl with a brand new whistle; nausea; proof positive that my parents should have switched churches already; and more rich foods than any reasonable person could eat in a month, in addition to the aforementioned six kinds of Christmas cookies, with only one night of fewer than eleven people sitting down to dinner.
What I mean to say is: seven Walds plus a constellation of Thatchers, Whitakers, Nutts, and Wolans can get up to quite a bit in six days. Good God.
Updated to add: I see from the sympathetic comments that I forgot to specify that, in fact, on the whole, I thought it was a very nice Christmas.
Also, I left out the uproarious parlor games.
I felt much less clever this morning when it took me an entire hour to realize that the reason why the house seemed colder than usual was because I hadn't reprogrammed the weekday settings.
I feel like I was gone much longer than six days. A lot happened: Christmas; a birthday; extended emotional drama; a family medical crisis; the Movie That Dares Not Speak Its Name; anticipation; disappointment; triumph; tears; Scrabble tournaments; pin the horn on the unicorn; ornaments gone scandalously missing; a long slog uphill in the woods, through mud, running water, and snow; preparations for incipient blindness; fine housewares; six kinds of Christmas cookies; a teapot-tempest over whether we should still have beef for Christmas dinner; a seven year old girl with a brand new whistle; nausea; proof positive that my parents should have switched churches already; and more rich foods than any reasonable person could eat in a month, in addition to the aforementioned six kinds of Christmas cookies, with only one night of fewer than eleven people sitting down to dinner.
What I mean to say is: seven Walds plus a constellation of Thatchers, Whitakers, Nutts, and Wolans can get up to quite a bit in six days. Good God.
Updated to add: I see from the sympathetic comments that I forgot to specify that, in fact, on the whole, I thought it was a very nice Christmas.
Also, I left out the uproarious parlor games.
