Stress

It was nearly ten in the morning before I heard from Mark. I had got up at six trying to move my office project ahead and maybe get it all done before Christmas, while Mark stayed in bed watching his Saturday morning cooking shows. Staying the hell out of my way was a good call on his part because the stress of redecorating the office, and the further stress of Christmas had finally got to me.
"What's all the screaming?" Mark asked as he finally emerged from the darkened bedroom.
"Owww, ouch, goddamnitsonofabitchfukkityfuckbastard!" I continued to scream, "I drilled a hole in my goddamnedfukkityfuckfinger!"
I hadn't actually done that. I did not drill a hole in my finger, but had only grazed the cuticle just below my middle finger. There was very little blood, but it sure hurt like hell, and I wanted the world to know it. Considering we had gone out drinking the evening before, and I was a bit hung over, the fact is I could have done much worse. The amazing thing is that Mark hadn't heard my first screaming fit earlier in the morning. That one was launched while I was trying to finish mounting the new light fixture. Honest to god the Chinese must truly hate us. Why else would they continue to sell us products with screws that don't fit, parts that don't align, and instructions written in some kind of Oriental code.

But Saturday wasn't all Chinese lamps, painting ceilings, nailing up crown molding, and rewiring electrical boxes. Later in the afternoon I finished putting up the outdoor Christmas lights. Now two doors down from us it looks like they are trying to run up the highest residential electric bill in history. They have every tree, bush, and every part of the house wrapped in lights. I think my display, while not as ostentatious as my neighbors, is quite beautiful. I spent an entire fifteen minutes on it. What do you think?