So here I am, on the couch...still. Why can't I get off the couch and just put the darn tree up? I mean it can't be any easier, it's bought, it's in the house, my adorable husband moved the barrel chair so I can put it up and yet, there it sits. In it's box, all sad, one branch hanging out, looking at me. Um, yes, I give emotions to inanimate objects, yes, yes I do. Take my car for instance. She is a little cranky to be outside given the current weather situation of snow and driving winds. She's from Florida for pete's sake (she can't help it!) and her name is Heidi. Even my husband has adopted this unfortunate trait (not really cool with his mechanic buddies, I must say). He will be on his way home and calls me saying, "Heidi and I are almost home, we're sick of this snow and we're hungry!" One time we had this type of conversation while one of his friends was in the car!
Needless to say, this all stem s from my mother and my early years, since we are being truthful here. She told me my bed was sad and about to cry if I didn't go crawl in it-surely I was having a temper tantrum by this point and she was at her wits end. With this new brilliant discovery, my mother realized I did have a heart even though I am pretty sure I was a devil child. Luckily for her, it worked. Every time. Brilliant I must say. But now I am a bit messed up as an adult. I felt bad (ok, still do) when I sold my trusty Grand Am earlier this year. I was horrified thinking it was sad and that it felt betrayed by me for selling her when all she did was get a few miles on her, which was of course MY fault, we had lots of good adventures, she tried her best...oh my I need a tissue!
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