Santa Is Psychic

I know, I know. Christmas was WEEKS ago and who wants to talk about it anymore? Me, of course, because the celebration never ends at G.C.!

In addition to his frankly creepy ability to see you when you're sleeping (really now--that's just freaky) and his knowledge of whether you've been bad or good, the portly gent in the red suit can also divine the future. And I know this because of a little something good ole Santy Clause left in my stocking.

Christmas morning I discovered a cute little basket had been left for me by the jolly fat man. Santa's Little Helper (a.k.a. the MiL) explained that it was for collecting eggs when the chickens started laying them. So I laid the basket aside (okay, so I really left it on the floor by the fireplace, because I forgot about it), figuring I wouldn't need it for months.

And then those tricky little chickens started laying eggs just one week later. Who would have ever guessed that would happen? Apparently, Santa did.

So now, every morning I traipse on out to the chicken coop with my little basket and gather the one brown egg from the nesting box and the one green egg (some breeds of chickens lay green or blue eggs) from the floor because the hen laying the green eggs can't seem to get her act together enough to lay the damn eggs in the box we built just for that purpose and nicely padded with straw. What a moron.

BUT ANYWAY.

Thanks to Santa, I have the perfect little basket for my little eggs.

Isn't that just DARLING?

Thank you, Santa! Now, about this business of seeing me when I'm sleeping . . .