I'm trying to convince Fuzzy that I NEED the Hogwarts Express train set to put around our Christmas tree.

Wish me luck.

Okay, so it's not a windmill, but when you're five feet tall a seven-foot plastic Christmas tree can be just as daunting as one of Cervantes' evil wind-machines.

Translation: I feel yucky, so I'm going to slay the yuckiness by putting the ornaments on the tree, now that I've lived with it, just lit, for almost a week.

I had thought to invite folks over for help, but it's such a full week next week and I've been so tired/queasy/strange-feeling, that I just want a weekend of quiet and reflection.

I hope everyone else's weekend goes well.

(P.S. Hey, , I've joined your mood posse for this one. But I still think “prickly” should be one of their options.)