It's starting to look a lot like Christmas here at work. Colourful loops of tinsel hang from the ceiling like glittering pendulous breasts.
National Geographic would be proud.
Our abode remains more or less Grinchful. Grumpy, who usually starts nagging for putting up the Christmas tree and cow angel (it's a cow in a dress with wings attached to her back, and it beats any stupid star) in July, has managed to bedeck the front porch with lights but that's about it. I'm hoping he can soon turn his permanently semi-bronchial lungs to the task of blowing up the inflatable Christmas tree. God knows I'm not going to do it. I get face-ache.
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