My roommate and I had an interesting discussion at dinner. You see, on the way home from church I was singing along with She & Him's Christmas CD to the song Little St. Nick, but I change all the words to be about a dog, because, well I have my own 20 lb Jack Russell St. Nick. This year, he has confused the tree skirt with his potty pad, so he has been leaving me Christmas presents on occasion, and then I have to clean the skirt and the carpet. He's getting better about not doing it, but considering that I was told as a child that Saint Nick leaves presents for good girls and boys, and a lump of coal for the bad ones, I can't help but think that perhaps I've been worse than bad this year, because Ol' St. Nick is leaving me a lump of dog crap. At least coal you can burn for heat to stay warm, dog poo I just have to clean up and dispose of.
Santa Baby, I'll give you a treat if you use your potty pad, and not my tree. Thank you.
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