I'm a Two Faced Bitch

So I got my hair cut. Really short. For me, anyway. I have basically had the same haircut since 8th grade: a slightly above the shoulder bob or sometimes I let it grow past my shoulders and then get sick of it and cut it. So last Saturday I had it cut to my chin. It's still a bob, just REALLY short. At first, I loved it. So light! So easy! And hey, I probably lost of few pounds in just hair so, bonus.

The problem is that half of the time, when I look in the mirror, I think, "It looks good! Just like I wanted it". The other half I get a glimpse of myself and think, "Sweet Lord, what a hatchet job"! It's like that girl in the Seinfeld episode who looked great in one sort of light and horrible in another. That's me, but with my hair. I'm a two face.

Also, my annual Scrooge-fest has begun. Normally, I love Christmas but several Christmases ago we got one of those advent boxes. You know, with 24 little boxes inside one big box? Anyway, my husband told our oldest child, Bobby, that the little gifts inside were from one of Santa's elves, who dropped them off while checking to see if Bobby was being good. It became known as the Elf Box and it is the bane of my exsistence.

It is really difficult to find enough crap to put in all those little boxes without getting too repetitive. The Husband finally said to just buy bigger stuff and he would write a clue from the elf to put in the box that would lead to the treat. This opened a whole new can of worms. Bobby loved the "hunts" as he called them. Problem is, he now expects them. It totally Scrooges me out. I sigh as soon as I see that damn Elf Box unpacked every year.

I know this really doesn't sound like that big of a problem, but on top of all the regular Christmas shopping, decorating, baking, wrapping, etc. I have to come up with 24 gifts/candies and/or the notes and clues for hunts! Plus, I always forget to put the treats in the box. We have to wait until after Bobby is asleep to do it, but by then I have forgotten/blocked out that we have the stupid thing. This year, it only took me until the second night to forget. I remembered with a start at about 11:45 and sat up, "Crap! Did you do the Elf box"? This of course, woke up The Husband (as it was meant to). Of course he didn't. So I got up to put the damn treat in the box. What do I find in the box? A note to the elf, from Bobby, asking: "Dear Elf, What is your name?" He even drew a blank for the elf to fill in.

Now, I can be creative, but coming up with elf names on the spot at 11:45pm when I have already been sleeping, turns out not to be my strong suit. So I did what anyone else would have done. I went back upstairs and woke The Husband up again.

Me: "He wants to know what the elf's name is!"

Husband: "Mike."

Me: "Seriously? Mike?"

Husband: "Yes. Mike"

Me: "Wow. I would have picked Snowflake or Gumdrop or something. Ok. Mike it is."

Which I think turned out to be a good pick since Bobby seemed to be excited about the fact that the elf was named Mike, but I'm not really sure why.

Anyway, I have been grousing and bitching about this box for three days so the bright side is: only 21 more days of bitching to go!

Note: I originally thought of three other stories to write about but every one of them involved poop. And poop somehow just didn't seem very seasonal. Of course two faced bitches = reason for the season.