December 27, 2004

Now this is what I call a holiday.

My two younger sisters realized sometime this weekend, between visits to grandparents and aunts, that they had slept in their own beds this entire year, save a church sleepover. (We forewent a vacation this year when my parents went on a cruise to celebrate their 25th anniversary.) After complaining a bit, they managed to convince my dad to let them tag along on a quick business trip my dad needs to make. They're staying in the state, so I think they're mostly going to stay in a hotel and play in the pool. It's not exactly a popular tourist destination.

The point is, I have the house to myself until Wednesday night. I have a few hours of babysitting so I couldn't go along. Shucks, really. Now I have the house all to myself.

I awoke for last minute instructions (garbage on Tuesday, library books need returning) at the ungodly hour of 7. Instead of going to bed, I treated myself to a little bit of holiday goodness.

I took my sister's DVD/TV combo into the bathroom and set it up on the toilet. I then proceeded to take a two hour bubble bath while watching the second DVD of the fifth season of Sex and the City. My mom is on a diet, so the Christmas gift of chocolates sent from work were devoured during the bath, and my sister's new $60 facial scrub from Santa "acccidentally" found itself opened and slathered on my face.

Now THIS is what I call a holday.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.