- owning 9 Christmas trees
- making my own bows for said trees, as well as my own wreath
- borrowing JoE's truck to bring my Christmas decorations to Chicago and still not getting them all here, despite bringing three boxes with me when I first moved and three more back over Thanksgiving
- washing two loads of laundry consisting only of Christmas related apparel at The Liz this weekend
- owning right around 30 Christmas music CDs (and thinking that this is not NEARLY enough)
- walking around my office all week wearing a santa hat with the Ohio State logo on the front
- multiplying my recipe for cherry thumbprint Christmas cookies by six so I would have "enough" cookies
Which is why two cookie sheets away from being done baking them yesterday, I did something I have rarely done in the course of my life - I killed a spider. All by myself.
I know; I can tell you don't believe me. Here's what happened: I'm going along happily making cookies and I'm on the phone with Fish, when I walk into my kitchen and see a spider milling around on the backsplash of my kitchen sink. In my recollection he was about a centimeter end to end, so in reality he was probably near microscopic and only barely visible to the naked eye. And it's a good thing too, any bigger and my cute little still warm cookies would have been left for dead. But dammit, I worked HARD on those cookies and I wasn't in the mood to let one of those evil demons coughed up from Hell to steal them.
He was headed right for the cookies, by way of climbing over my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. I had to act fast so I grabbed the other end of the Eraser (with the fingernails of my index finger and thumb) and quick as I could threw it in the sink. He jumped off the sponge just as I turned the water on him full blast. He rolled into a little ball, but I'm no dummy and I wasn't about to fall for that "playing dead" trick just so he could unroll and JUMP RIGHT ON ME. I splashed water on him screaming "GET IN THERE! GET IN THE DRAIN! GET DOWN THERE YOU LITTLE FUCKER!" until he floated downstream and into the drain. And then I ran scalding hot water in the sink for the next 35 minutes. "They're tenacious," I explained to Fish, who sat patiently through yet another spider episode over the phone. "I don't want him grabbing onto the side of the drain pipe and hanging on so he can crawl out and get me later. I know his ways."
So yeah, I killed a spider, and I was reasonably calm about it (outwardly, though my heart was desperately trying to escape from my chest the whole time and for a good hour afterward). And I was only mildly shaking while staring fixedly at the sink drain while I washed the cookie sheets later. And the only nightmare I had that night was that I was a character on 7th Heaven. And I saved the cookies. From the spider, if not from me.
Ah, the power of Christmas spirit.