December 5 my hot water heater bit the dust. I tempted the powers that be by writing, "I'll put away my perfectionistic ideals of how this holiday season should look and make a special effort to simply enjoy it--spills and all."
After that I lived without hot water for six days, celebrated St. Nicholas Day, lived through an ice storm, lost everything from my computer hard drive, purchased all my Christmas gifts, helped organize a 5th grade party-of-all-parties, found out my dad has a form of epilepsy that causes him to lose hours at a time to amnesia, travelled to Wichita for the holidays (you know how that goes), last-minute-shopped on Christmas Eve & attended Carl's family Christmas party Christmas Eve evening. I was in charge of chips.
The topper: I spent Christmas morning in the emergency room. I swallowed my horse pill medicine first thing that morning, it lodged and I couldn't breathe. A cute fireman gave me the Heimlich maneuver before the ambulance arrived. I felt like an idiot when it was all done, but I was scared out of my wits for a moment. Towards the end I apologized to the ER doctor and expressed my emarrassment, to which he replied, "Hey. At least your pajamas match." Yeah. That made it all better.
All of my December drama doesn't constitute a spill. It's been a freakin' flood.
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