Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (that’s cause we found him and his little friend dead in the ductwork last month);
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
With Lou at work and I in my cap (cause I’m home sick with a cold),
I just settled down for an afternoon’s nap,
When out on the porch there arose such a clatter,
I stumbled from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash (after I tripping over the ironing board),
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash (with the way I feel we’re lucky that’s the only thing I threw up).
The sun on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave me a migraine looking at the objects below,
When, what to my watering eyes should appear,
But the mailtruck led by eight tiny reindeer (OK…there were no reindeer)
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must be Pete..the mailman…with my copy of the B&B Show Schedule….woo hoo.
More rapid than eagles its courses he read,
He whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, PMC! now, Lampwork! now, Casting and Beading!
On, Fusing! on Felting! on, Resin and…..
Oh screw the rest of the poem….I have to start choosing my classes!!!!