Happy…you know.

For anyone who’s been awaiting the thrilling conclusion to the saga of what Mother got me for Christmas, well…the wait isn’t over. Whatever it is, it’s still in the post. But Mother’s on holiday, so I can’t pester her any more. I do know it’s not soup spoons—

Well, you’ll be glad to know I’m wearing the dressing gown. (LIE!)

I ran it through the sanitary cycle, and it smells like marshmallows. (TRUE!)

Maybe the water was too hot.

Anyway, I do need a bottle opener. Mine got lost, remember? I keep meaning to get one, but I don’t need one that often. It only becomes a problem when I get a bottle with one of those caps, and I have to pry in like an otter.

Soup spoons?

—Me

(Now, this is where I’m a terrible person, because I’m totally lying, and here’s what she sends me—)

Wee one, I’m proud of you. Not so much because that was an expensive dressing gown and I don’t want to see it ditched, but because you screwed your courage to the sticking point and overcame your phobic thoughts. Good for you! This bodes well for the future because if you can do it once, you can do it again. You’ve made me very happy. 🙂

NOW! MAKE SURE YOU’VE TURNED THE DIAL ON YOUR WASHING MACHINE BACK TO THE REGULAR CYCLE, BECAUSE THE SANITARY CYCLE IS DEATH TO SOME FABRICS!

Soup spoons? Nope. But I’ll pick up a bottle opener for you.

Love,

—Mother

I’m such a wanker. I did put on the smelly dressing gown to cancel out my dishonesty, but it stunk to high heaven. I put it back in its isolation bag. Also, I know about the sanitary cycle. I’m not five years old. I read the manual.

This story doesn’t make me look good. I keep perfectly good dressing gowns in bags, and I don’t buy basic kitchenware. I bother my mother, and what did I get her? (I’m not saying, in case she reads this, but she can’t have it till she visits. It might get damaged in the post.)

I won’t know what she sent till next year, but till then, I’m guessing pants. When it’s not socks or kitchen stuff, it’s always pants—those great puffy cotton ones that cover your whole bum. Bets on pants? Pants, going once?

Anyway, happy Christmas from me…and from my imaginary friends. Jingle-jingle!

3 thoughts on “Happy…you know.

  1. You’ve knackered yourself now – unless you buy an identical gown and ditch the old one, you’re going to have to wash and wear it the next time your mother visits!

    I hope it’s not pants!

    Merry Christmas to you and your imaginary friends Socar – I wish you all the best and thank you for brightening up the world with you humour!

    Like

    1. Sadly, I’m at an age where I kind of hope it IS pants. I don’t know where they get to—they get sucked up the dryer vent or they fly out the window, or they’re all stuck up the legs of my trousers. I don’t know how it happens, but I swear I have less every wash.

      And you’re absolutely right. I’m now obliged to wear THAT dressing gown every time Mother’s here, even if I find the swanky Sherlock Holmes-looking dressing gown of my dreams. Why do I do these things to myself?

      Hope you have the best Christmas! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Thanks Socar!

        I don’t just think that’s you – I love getting socks and pants for Christmas!

        There is definitely a creature as yet undiscovered by science, that either eats socks and pants, or takes them to build it’s nest – Hateful bloody animals! 😀

        Like

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