For those of you that have ever dreamed of a tropical Christmas, please read on.
Twas the week before Christmas (leave), and all through the South
Not a creature was comfortable; it felt like a drought.
We were both tired, all snug in our bed, while visions of sipping margaritas under our decorated palm tree danced through our heads.
My Margaritaville ideas of Christmas "at the beach" are now shot. After my day yesterday, the only visions dancing around in my head are of central air conditioning.
Hubby and I were out and about trying to make a dent in our Christmas shopping. I wasn't in a completely festive, Christmasy-mood. Something felt a little off. Then I realized. Oh, yeah! We live in south Texas. It is the middle of December, and it is 85 degrees outside.
To top off our Christmastime-in-south-Texas afternoon, as soon as we got home, I pulled out all of our wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows to wrap all the loot. A few minutes after everything was nestled under our tiny Christmas tree (not a palm), I kept hearing all these tiny popping noises. After inspecting our home, I found the source of the sound: tiny pieces of tape popping off the newly-wrapped gifts. That's right folks. It was so hot and humid yesterday that the tape wouldn't stick to the paper. Utterly ridiculous.
I can't decide if scraping three inches of ice off your windshield (thanks, VA!) or needing to blast my car's A/C (thanks, TX!) is worse. Therefore, I will just choose to stay positive and hope that by Christmas day I will be able to once again channel Jimmy Buffett and enjoy our tropical Christmas.