Satire

'Twas mere days before Christmas, and all through this world of mine

Much isn't finished or wrapped - because I don't manage my time.

The stockings finally just got hung, but my tree may soon be bare,

For I think the tree guy screwed me, those needles fall with the slightest breath of air.

The children are getting much older, and don't get tucked in bed til near nine...

And I'm far too exhausted to knit or wrap presents...I just want my wine.

I've managed some knit gifts, though I swear gauge often lies,

Because the one for my baby nephew, is a freaking huge size.

I'll rip that off the needles, and maybe start again...

Provided I don't have a shocker at Costco, and start on the gin.

Looking out our windows, I'm proud to say,

I hung up Christmas lights, they sparkle and sway...

For the weather is stormy, and the wind, she's a blowing,

But Santa is coming, those kids are well knowing.

Or so I nag and remind them, every few hours,

In hopes that we'll breeze through, peacefully, this Christmas of ours.

Each year it comes faster, this holiday season,

And each year my lack of cards sent out has some crappy reason...

But moving house seems to count for much of my slack, just a bit,

Although my lack of blogging these days...could be more lack of wit.

Perhaps this year I'll be like everyone else...

And wait for New Year's to better myself.

Or maybe, just maybe, I'll receive a gift from jolly Mr. C,

In the form of a very got-it-together ME.

I won't hold my breath, though, because I've got a fair hunch,

That my cursing and sarcasm put me with the naughty bunch.

So, I'll have to rely on my own poise and grace

To push through to the end of this holiday race.

For despite all the chaos, and crazies, and stressing,

It truly is a  magical time, filled with many a blessing.

(Never mind that I have nothing to wear that fits over my rump...

I know Santa appreciates a girl who's a teeny bit plump.)

So bring on the guests, the gifts, and the cheer...

Because after all, I'm prepared, with a magnum of Champers, and a case full of beer.

The beer's for the Mister, the Champers for me...

For he and I both must put up with the antics - of little old me.

Now to those of you who fear that my Christmas is cheer-free,

I say to you now, don't worry for me.

'Tis simply that, while a sweet little Rhyme

Is suited to many at Christmastime,

I'll take my rhyme with a bit of a twist

And a dash of the cynic - ah, that is bliss.

I'll exclaim to you all, 'ere I sign off this post...

Happy Christmas to everyone, may it be better than most!