the twelve days of Christmas... if I don't smoke a corncob pipe first.

On the tenth day of Christmas my children gave to me...

ten hours sleeping (what's that again?)

Nine all out rantings (Wal-Mart you are the bitch teat at which I must suckle this holiday season, mostly because of your cheap stocking stuffers).

Eight maids-a-cleaning (that should be enough to tackle the kids' bathroom).

Seven glasses brimming (brim-ming).

Six listen to what I'm sayings (I know, total pipe dream).

Five meals that someone else brings (like poutine).

Four swearing words (I'm going to need them when opening my Visa bill).

Three holding pens (so they won't hear the swearing).

Two latex gloves (you don't even what to know why -shudders-).

And a nap with nobody but me.