Conceptually, I like the idea of sending out Christmas cards. Technically, it gets me all twisted up.
How many do I send? … What do I write inside the cards? … Is simply signing my name too impersonal? … Is ‘Love’ too much? … Do I put my last name or just my first name?
You get the idea.
Monday night, I bit the bullet and completed my Christmas correspondence. It was a three hour (THREE HOUR) process that had me completely loopy by the end.
Here’s how it all went down:
TenEleven recipients. (THREE HOURS gave me plenty of time to recall the delightful elderly couple I had nearly overlooked.)
- Two goofed-up signatures. (Note to self: Sullivan has a “u” not a “w” in it.)
- One artistic binge in which I drew Christmas ornaments on a card, only to realize that the ornaments looked more like weapons with fuses than round balls with hooks. … Make that THREE cards tossed toward the ‘green’ pastures of my recycle bin (over the course of THREE HOURS).
- One laser printer debacle in which the device conspired to print with invisible ink despite the (correct) installation of brand new ink cartridges. When the printer finally decided to (sort of) cooperate…
- Ghastly smudge marks on the address labels, which prompted me to get out my pink Stickopotamus Binder (google it) and affix…
- Eleven silver-foiled snowflake stickers to hide the smeary fingerprints on the address labels.
- A card to my older sister that contained a tender sentiment incongruently signed ‘Lori Sullivan’ … well, that should clear up any confusion as to the sender. Oy.
- One five-minute fit of hysterical laughter over my seemingly unavoidable ridiculousness.