Husband decides he wants to send Christmas cards this year. Why? We don't ask these questions. Only, he dawdles and I do everything fast. In the time he had written five cards, I had done thirty.
Now I've written that word so many times it looks funny. Thirty. Thurty. Thurdy.
But do you know what I've written even more times and what looks even fucking weirder?
MERRY CRISP MESS
MARY KISSED MUST
I'm going to have nightmares about glad tidings, I just know it.