My house looks like a department store explosion. The following are some items I had to traverse to get to the kitchen (my God I need my coffee) this morning: a neon green sports bra (brighter than Vegas at midnight), a Columbia multi-tool (with mini LED flashlight), one LL Bean fur lined slipper, the dog, wrapping paper (SpongeBob meets Crane), Portmeirion wastebasket to replace quarter century old Audubon one (wedding gift from mother’s store), not one but two empty plates of blueberry peach pie (honestly, couldn’t the dog have cleaned these for me?), numerous pairs of new socks (various combinations of argyle and fair isle patterns), Banana Republic boxer briefs, Hanes tagless t-shirts (because no matter what else happens in life, we should always be able to trust Michael Jordan), empty DVD cases for Despicable Me and Inception, 1 lb Reeses peanut butter cups, an eight pack of Classic Coke, empty bottles of Wine and sparkling cider, birthday wrapping paper, Sperry top-siders box, empty DVD box of Hurt Locker and the life-size cut out of Taylor Lautner, who on Christmas day was permitted to leave my daughters bedroom and visit the living room to have his picture taken under the tree - he wore a green chenille bathrobe and jaunty terrorist scarf
(there was some discussion about using him for target practice with an air gun - in retrospect, it’s really probably best that I don’t have a life-size cut out of Landa). Time to awaken the elves and put them to work.