There's been a rather dramatic, unexpected, and unwelcome shift in the power balance around here over the past couple of weeks, and I'm still struggling to adjust. Due to a back injury (Not My Fault), I have been demoted from Commander-in-Chief of the Holiday Preparations to Frantic Spectator.
The Symbols of Power (including the Ermine Cloak lined with Real Live Ermines) have been grudgingly handed over to Husband Beast, who is not taking the Responsibility of the Holiday Preparations seriously at all. The tree is not up yet. The gifts are not wrapped (or even bought). There is no white chocolate cheesecake nestled carefully in the freezer. Nor are there any gingerbread gargoyles (long story) in the cookie tin. And let's not even talk about the amount of dog hair on the floor. There's enough of it floating around to cobble together a whole 'nother dog or two. Not that we're in need of any more dogs, but if we were, we'd be set.
The only bright spot in this rather gloomy December is that Husband Beast very helpfully bought me a Granny Grabber. This is a long, stick-like device with a pincher on the end. It's good for picking up stuff I dropped and sorting laundry, as I'm not supposed to be bending over and stuff. It allows me to do a few things so that I feel Useful and Helpful, even though I am not In Charge.
It's also good for pinching people's butts as they walk by.
Best. Gift. Ever.