Stress + Whipped Cream = Sleigh Ride. No One Ever Said I Was Good at Math.

Yesterday evening, after my second day in a row of writing absolutely nothing (which hasn't happened in many moons), I was so befuddled that I put a can of whipped cream in the freezer, then promptly forgot I'd done so and blamed it on Spousal Unit.

Before bed, I made the mistake of asking him to open and pay his credit card bill so I could send the check in the morning. Turns out our last payment never made it to them - I have never lost a check in the mail, so naturally, we have no record of it ever existing aside from a skipped number in our bank statement.

Stress like that is a bad thing to have before bed. I had just made a cup of tea, and it stayed in the kitchen, full, all night. This came after a surprisingly jubilant afternoon and, combined with the unusual heat, made for a tossing-and-turning night.

This is probably part of why I started singing Sleigh Ride in the shower this morning. It's going to be a weird day. Which is why I gave myself two little heaps of whipped cream on my oatmeal today.

I deserve it, damnit.


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