“I feel like I’m married to Santa Claus,” your dad said last night coming in the door and seeing me on the couch.
“Why would you say that?” I said, muffled through my whiskers.
I had been trying on a new Santa beard and wig I bought for someone to play Santa at our annual Christmas Day party (because you know the real guy, he’s tired after delivering all of those presents Christmas Eve, he can’t make it so sends a helper to dress like him, a move I’m going to think about doing–“Oh, your four-hour bridal shower? I can’t make it, but so-and-so can”), and your dad caught me in full regalia.
Anyway, so there were, and so deadpan, I feel like I’m married to Santa Claus…
People are funny, babies.
Ho, Ho, Ho.