Hella Stella

We occasionally let Morty sleep in our bed. He is crate trained, and doesn't mind staying there at night, but really? Sometimes it's fun having him snuggle my feet while I sleep.

Except for last night. Instead of resuming his usual place at my feet, Morty CLUNG to my face all night. He didn't just sleep on my pillow, he rested his chin on my forehead, kicked me in the eye, and snored into my ear. He would rearrange occasionally so that his bum was pressed against my cheek. Bad things come out of that bum.

I slept terribly.

At any rate, I'm a zombie today and will try to make it through without any mishaps. Part of what will carry me forward is the knowledge that I am attending a bulldog party tonight. I CAN'T WAIT.

In other news: the tree is decorated and the presents are wrapped. I can barely believe it. I figured wrapping the gifts would prohibit my BH from finding his presents while tidying the house. Morty was scared shitless of the wrapping paper and cowered in the hallway as I worked. Milan and Emily stopped by before I had a chance to clean up the carnage of gift wrap, so they had to sit on the floor while I put everything away. Yes, I am a great hostess. In my defence, working at a specialty paper store for three years makes gift wrapping a serious job. You need the right ribbon, the right tape, the right weight of paper, the right gift cards.... Heather, you've got my back on this one, right?

I digress. Basically, when I wrap gifts, things get messy. Thankfully, they brought wine, and I soon forgot about gift wrapping and Christmas all together.

Seems to me I had something intelligent to say here, but my brain is broken.

I... Yeah.