Sorry for wasting your time.

I could tell you about how I have to take my mom to Borders tomorrow so she can learn how to use her e-book dealy, and how we will spend the day together, including breakfast (which I find odd). But I won't.

I could tell you how I am going to go clean my room as soon as I am done with this. But I won't.

I could tell you about my mother's mysterious mood swings, after I spent my day shopping with my sister at the  mall.  But I won't.

I could tell you about my Christmas, and how we went to my sister's for dinner and her in-laws were oddly pleasant (I think they were border line-tipsy), or how I fell asleep on the couch for four hours ( but it is ok, because my dad did too) after an unnecessarily large breakfast  that always comes after opening presents in the morning, which I had to wake up at an ungodly hour to do so. But I won't.

I could tell you about my Christmas Eve, where I dominated in Monopoly (which my mother will not admit) after a dinner of BBQ-ed chicken and me, my mom, and my dad opening two presents each, at the end of a day where we all got along with one another for long periods of time (which I found refreshingly delightful). But I won't.


In fact, I don't think I will tell you a whole lot of anything in this blog.

How was your Christmas?