I got up at ten of eight, which could be considered sleeping in. As usual, I awoke in somewhat of a frenzy; I do that often. It's as though I wake and suddenly realize all the interesting things there are to, attempting to jolt myself out of sleep in seconds. Usually this is not as graceful as it sounds.

After completing a huge vat of plain yogurt with honey and apple spice tea with egg nog (in lo of the the Christmas spirit), I put in Julie and Julia, to settle down for some quality background noise while I began my homework. Following this I scrubbed the kitchen floor and worked my hands (literally) dry in the kitchen, trying to get it to my level of sanitary, but even with Christmas music on, my cleaning flair bunt out after a couple hours (which isn't too bad, I suppose). Feeling productive, feeling good ... about myself ... about my morning ... about the impending holiday. But, oh, then it happened --

A knock at the door (never good when you're indesposed). Let me define indesposed: loose tee-shirt, pj pants, wild-child hair, and well ... I'll stop there. I ran to cover up with a sweatshirt and opened the door to see a lovely boquet of Christmas flowers. "My" I thought. "Flowers for meee, you shouldn't have!" Well, they didn't. The man at the door told me to hold onto them for my neighbor who at the time wasn't home. Yes, if you're wondering, I said it: "I was hoping those were for me." Perhaps had a looked less like a creature and more like a lady he might have had pity, but he just said sorry and left.

Oh well, who needs Christmas roses?